The Painted Lady
by Horky
Summary: Who said they had the right to live in peace, bitter and torn people left in their wake. Even the demons hurt. Some can even make you hurt with them. Take your other half, destroy your face, kill you without even shedding your blood.
1. Lady of Wutai

The Painted Lady

Lady of Wutai

It was crowded, as he had expected; bodies crammed in to fill every last space. Sweaty, filthy, excited people were everywhere, pressed into lines or flowing along the walkways. The man bumped into another person, harshly connecting shoulders before trudging on. He caught three street urchins trying to filch gil out of his pocket.

He gave them all 10 gil, and sent them on their way.

Pushing ahead, dodging each wave of bodies, the man tightened the cloak around his shoulders, and jerked his hood lower.

Smells of fresh cooked food filled the air, exotic and local alike; people pressing against booths and stalls, playing games and buying stuffed animals. He was dodging a clown with a fistful of balloons when the first bang when off, startling the people for a moment. Eyes tipped skyward, and the crowd collectively said 'ooh and ahh' after another loud bang.

Colored lights burst forth and lit up the night, casting green, orange, and red hues across the smiling faces as a gondola swung across the dim moon. Screams of delight entered the picture as a cart on the roller coaster sailed by overhead. A trumpet sounded in the distance, and a man began to advertise for an upcoming show.

However, while every other person was smiling, laughing, and enjoying one of these things, the man known as Cloud Strife ignored them all to his best ability. He carved a path through the crowd, most still looking upwards at the fireworks, and kept his head low beneath the hood of his cloak.

He wasn't here to enjoy any of the entertainment the Gold Saucer offered, not tonight at least. He was traveling, looking for information, something that had become a habit in the past three years. Most of his efforts had turned up fruitless, and he found himself following a loose trail with barely any clues, and his gil dwindling. He would have to return to the bar soon to pick up supplies again, to refill his pockets, and rest. However, he found it hard to rest, especially when he had actually gotten his first big lead in three years. In reality, it wasn't much of a lead, but it was the only thing he had ever gotten. He was reluctant to deviate from the trail just to replenish his supplies; however, he knew it would come to that soon, but he had to stop here before returning home.

If he could even call it that anymore.

Tilting his head to the left, he glanced over at a sign, not really expecting to have his attention caught. He was on a mission, and that was to talk to one person only, and he had never been sidetracked before.

However, this time...

Pressing against the flow of the crowd, Cloud pressed to the left towards a sign. There was a midget on an overturned bucket shouting into a bullhorn about the new show. Cloud lifted his eyes to the poster. It read:

'_Come see the one and only,_

_Lady of Wutai!_

_Shows: 3:00, 5:00, 7:30, and 9:30._

_Don't miss this beautiful, but deadly woman in red.'_

The poster portrayed a young woman in a red kimono, a fan before her face, peering over it with narrowed eyes. It was faded, details hard to make out, but beneath it, he saw the peeling corner of another poster, only a few words exposed.

'_The Pla-_

_Alfred_

_Legend-_

Cloud's eyes widened slightly at the memory, but went to press on, to move on from this distraction. He mentally scolded himself for getting sidetracked.

However, as he went to turn, the midget rung a gong, proclaiming to the crowd that the show would begin in five minutes, and it would be your last chance for the night.

Cloud paused, turning slightly as the crowd pressed towards the entrance of the stage.

Would it hurt, really? Would it really hurt to take a break and see a show? One that she would undoubtedly want to stop in and see...if she were here.

Cloud hesitated for a moment as the crowd thinned, forfeiting money over to the small man, till he was the only one left standing there. The man turned on his bucket to look at Cloud, and frowned.

"Don't kid yourself, you know you want to see her."

Cloud narrowed his eyes, but forfeited the gil to the small man before passing through the curtains of the entrance.

It was different from last time. There were many more people, the benches filled, and many people pressed against the walls, and he realized this must be a popular show. Smoke hung heavy in the air, the spotlights cutting beams through it towards the stage. Large electric-powered candelabra decorated the walls, and dimmed as Cloud found a place on the back wall.

The spot lights moved to form a single circle of light on center stage, the red velvety curtains still tightly closed.

Cloud lifted his head in interest as a steady drum beat began to play from somewhere unseen, followed by a gong. The curtains parted slightly, and a short, bald man emerged, microphone in hand. The crowd quieted slightly, but still not enough.

The man waved his hands down, "Shh. Please, please, lower your voices."

The crowd's murmuring ceased, and turned their attention the man.

"We don't want to scare the lovely lady, do we," he laughed, "She's very skittish, shy."

"I thought she was suppose to be deadly," a man shouted from the crowd.

The host laughed again, "Ah, someone who knows to get straight to the point! Right, right. Well, we can't start if you don't know the story of the Lady, now can we? Now, it's quite obvious that the Lady is royalty. Trust me, I know. You know it the moment you see her. Some speculate she is the long lost Lady Kisaragi of Wutai...some say she's not. Some say...well, some say..." a red lily appeared in the palm of his hand, "Some say she is the ghost of the woman. Not even real, merely a sad memory left to the world. Truly, a tragic story, and some say believable. What other woman could be there and then be gone, like that," the lily was gone from his hand again with the quick flick of his wrist.

Cloud had seen the trick, and watched at how easily the crowd was amused by cheap tricks.

"And what could the explanation be, for such a timid soul as the Lady to be able to kill mercilessly, and defend herself ruthlessly."

There was a couple of chuckles from the crowd, and the man looked offended.

"You don't believe me? Fine, I guess we'll have to show you. See it to believe, my friends," the host walked the length of the stage quickly, "We have our strong man coming out. Many of you have seen him, yes? Good good, well, he's here to show you just how deadly the Lady can be. Come on out, Frank."

Another assortment of chuckles as the large, burly man moved out flexing his muscles. He winked and grinned and laughed, and the crowd laughed with him. The host was truly dwarfed by the large man, standing well over six feet; a definition of the stereotypical carnival strong man.

"Now, quiet..._The Lady_ approaches."

Cloud found it amazing how quickly the sound died in the room, and was soon picked up by a lone flute to create the mood.

The woman moved forward, in her trademark red kimono. Cloud studied her. She held a delicate fan before her face, painted with dolphins, and her hair was a startling red as well, tied up into a lose bun. Her face was a pale white, as were her hands, and there was thick kohl and red paint on her eyelids. She moved gracefully, timidly across the stage, captivating the crowd with her mysteriousness.

Cloud was not impressed, however. Yes, the woman did prove to be beautiful, however, even from here Cloud could tell the woman wasn't of Wutai. Maybe she had some Wutai heritage deep in her blood, but nothing recent. The woman's eyes were too big, round, not the eyes he associated with a true Kisaragi.

The woman's eyes slid open smoothly, dark irises.

The strong man didn't even wait. He advanced on the tiny woman, and before he knew it was flat on his back. The woman sighed, flicking her wrist to open the fan again, and the crowd stood in awed silence.

Cloud narrowed his eyes.

"How are we suppose to believe that?!" the first brave spectator shouted.

"Can I have a challenger, please. Anyone of you, would like to come up? However, you'll have to sign this release form...in case...well, accidents happen."

This silenced the crowd quickly.

A scam; Cloud had payed money for a scam. Although the strong man was doing an impressive job by lying still. Cloud sighed, pressing up off the wall, ready to leave, but then hesitated.

"I will," his voice rang out smooth over the silent crowd.

The host looked surprised, "We have a challenger!"

The red headed man stepped forward, aquamarine eyes glinting maliciously.

Cloud faded back against the wall. _Reno, what is he doing here?_

The Turk hopped up onto the stage, jerking the release form from the man's hand and signing it in a fluid movement.

"Say, can I use this?"

Cloud recognized the weapon.

"Sure," the host stated.

And then Reno was jumping through the air, slinging his rod around, electricity pulsing around the weapon, as he sailed the object towards the Lady's head.

And she wasn't there.

And Cloud recognized the look of amusement in her eyes.

He swallowed. Her eyes.

Reno choked for a moment, then smirked as he turned.

"She's fast, so what?"

And then he was after again, swinging a little bit more controlled in case he should have to take the defensive. How the Lady moved in that kimono, Reno did not understand.

_I know her._

And she was gone, and he felt a light tap on his head as the Lady whacked him with her fan. The crowd burst into laughter, ignoring the silent, cloaked man that inched his way towards the stage.

The amusement played across the Lady's eyes again, and Reno gave a smile, but there was an anger behind it, for being embarrassed.

_I know her._

He swung again, and this time the Lady did not dodge. The crowd gasped Reno's rod came swinging around at her head.

Cloud's eyes widened slightly.

Reno gave a startled cry as her fingernails dug into his wrist, holding back his hand. He growled, preparing to jerk away, but the Lady didn't give him a chance as she kicked his knees out from beneath him. Reno gave out a cry as he fell backwards, only to be elbowed in the stomach as he fell, his rod flinging to the stage floor, clattering silent.

The crowd froze as Reno clutched his stomach, realizing this was no fake.

_I know her. I know her._

Reno struggled to his feet, before giving a clumsy bow and a wide grin.

"The round's to you, milady."

He received many cheers and laughter from the audience, and held his arms out before diving backwards into the waiting crowd's arms.

Cloud watched with fascination as Reno was deposited on to the floor, and the Lady flicked her fan across her face again. The crowd cheered as the host gestured to the lady, and an eery music began to sound from somewhere off stage. The Lady took this as her cue, and began to dance, the fan fluttering here and there, twisting her feet, bending her arms.

He was captivated, moving closer, and closer to the stage, the audience in an awe along with him. She danced beautifully, a mix of grace and deadliness, beauty with danger. The fan ended before her face, eyes peering over, narrowed, and beautiful.

Her eyes.

Cloud finally understood why the show was so popular, and had gotten a good look at her face. It was painted white, but her lips stood out in a blood red. Familiar, yet distant; foreign yet close. The Lady quickly exited the stage, escaping from the loud cheers, unaware of the cloaked man on her heels.

_xxx_

She sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead, some of the makeup smearing as she did so. She headed straight for the large, red tent behind the moogle stand, only throwing one glance over her shoulder. She slipped into her tent quickly and quietly, heading straight for a large tub of water. Yanking the red wig off painfully, natural, darker locks fell from its hiding, framing her painted face. She tossed the wig to the ground, pins littering the area surrounding it. She yanked at the twists and ties of the silky kimono, freeing herself, and allowing herself a bit more breathing room.

And then her face was plunging into the ice cold water of the tub, white clouds swirling out, making the water dirty and unclear.

She shoved her hands into the tub as well, the paint up to her elbows beginning to wash off easily.

She flung her head back, her long locks slapping her back as she gasped for air. Water streamed off her face and her hair soaked her back, and she fought to hold it in, but couldn't. Seeing someone from her past, she couldn't take that; then she was sobbing, tears cutting tracks over her rough face. She buried her face in her hands and cried, and then pulled at the precious silk kimono, ripping its sleeves from the bodice, tearing the neckline, and ripping the hems off, hating what she had become.

That was when she heard the rustle behind her, and turned her head swiftly.

He was standing at the entrance to the large tent, eyeing the woman warily after seeing the discarded wig on the ground, and the way she shredded the kimono with her bare hands. His eyes met with hers, and he saw the paint that ran from her face, and hands. He saw the way she snatched up the delicate fan in a fluid movement to hide her face.

Even then, she knew she'd been a moment to late.

It wasn't just the combined affect of recognizing her, it was her face. It was the way the scars crisscrossed her cheeks, delved into her eyebrows, and cut across her eyes and her lips, speaking of a past unknown to the man. It was the way her nose seemed slightly crooked, the way her eyes held a proud defeat, and a broken soul. It was the way her cheeks were puckered with scars where dimples should be. It was the deep lines on her wrists up to her elbows, and the large scar that protruded from the ruined neckline of the red kimono.

A second flashed, frozen in time, the ring still on her finger, on the hand that clutched the fan furtively, almost desperate, to stay the ghost, to stay the woman that was mysterious, that was painted and in red, even when she despised being that.

But she couldn't, not anymore. Not now, when her secret was out.

"Tifa?"

She fled.

**A/N: **The bunnies made me do it. This story, it's complete ignoring AC...so, like, if you want emo agnsty bitch Cloud, you ain't gettin him. This is...different, it's very dark, and the gold saucer, or is it golden? I can't remember. anyways, I set it up more like a carnival, or a fair...just so it could work with the story. So, you'll have to wait to see what's up with Tifster. Later


	2. Scars of the Soul

Scars of the Soul

It was his eyes that made her freeze before running. It was the eyes she knew so well and had dreamt of for years. She hated how the pity easily found itself in those eyes, though. She hated how he looked at her with pity, at her scarred face.

That was why she ran.

She couldn't do this. This couldn't happen to her, not when she had gotten so far. Not when she had finally forgotten, when she'd finally felt safe. She had to get away.

Cloud followed her, dodging through the crowds, laughing and talking, oblivious to his pursuit, hindering it even further. He dodged a man pushing a cart, ran into another woman, shoved a man out of the way, following the trail of the red, tattered kimono, and the flowing wet hair.

It was like following a ghost, one he could only see. She moved so quickly, and so smoothly through the crowd no one took notice of her. He, however, was a bumbling fool compared to her. He had forgotten how fast she could run.

Which was why after ten minutes in the chase, he stood, stranded in the midst of an overflowing crowd, head jerking back and forth, eyes wild, sweat running, praying to see a glimpse of red, of anything vaguely familiar. He swallowed, trying to regain his composure, trying to think of what to do next. He could head back for her tent, wait for her there, but, he'd be lucky if he could find it. His bearings were completely messed up, he had followed her blindly, and he had no idea which way she had run. Maybe if luck was with him, he could just stand here and catch a glimpse of her.

Or maybe he could talk to the person he had planned on all along.

Shoving past some more people, calmer now, he pushed towards an employee, asking for directions to the offices. The man gave them, and Cloud was on his way, shoving through the crowds once again. The offices were obscure, down a long, curving path. Cloud stared up at the short, brown building before entering it.

The woman at the front desk intercepted him, "Can I help you, sir?"

"I need to speak with Dio."

She frowned slightly, "I'm sorry sir, but an appointment would be nece-

"I need to speak with Dio," Cloud's voice more firm, more serious.

_xxx_

She pressed her back up against the wall of the booth, glancing around the corner hesitantly. He was nowhere in sight, and she sighed, fighting fatigue, fighting from just crashing into a heap on the ground. Pressing off the wall, she once again cautiously moved from the cover of the booth.

"Ms. Rosie!"

She jerked back as the fried fish on a stick was thrust in her face. She blinked a couple times before finding the face, and smiled.

"Raine, hello."

"Mumma just made some, want it?" the girl sported her own outlandish costume, customary with the Gold Saucer's employees.

"Sure, thanks," she took the stick delicately.

"Ms. Rosie..."

"Hmm?"

"You look funny," the small girl stated plainly.

She looked down, noting her appearance for the first time, realizing how she must look. She gave a small, sad laugh, before smiling at the girl and turning away, walking behind the booth and slipping onto the unknown paths the employees used. Even there she was cautious, glancing around for a glimpse of blonde or blue, grateful and slightly disappointed when she didn't see any. Giving another sad sigh, she made her way back towards her tent, nibbling on the fish even though she wasn't really hungry.

She tied her hair back sloppily when she reached her tent, changing into plain, white clothes before relaxing onto a pile of pillows in a corner. She'd been told upon arriving that it was the old fortune tellers tent, and it wasn't used anymore. She preferred the silence and isolation of the tent, rather than the quarters that were offered around the park for employees. She preferred this to any city, town or home; or, at least now she did.

Sighing she contemplated, before finally rolling over and digging around beneath some blankets and finding the tiny hand mirror. It was the only mirror that she had, and she choose not to look into it on most occasions. She met her own eyes in the mirror, the only thing that hadn't changed was the color.

Her nose was bent slightly now, resulting from a broken nose. The scars crisscrossed here and there, almost in a pattern, a dance. She sighed. Beneath there, somewhere, was a girl, a woman, who was once beautiful, who had a beautiful name, and a beautiful home, and a beautiful child. A woman with a past, a present, and a future.

She had none of those now. She wasn't that woman anymore.

She'd never really been one to sit around and study her looks and perfect them with make up or pout over a blemish. She supposed she'd been fairly lucky with the beauty that had been granted to her, but still, scars were more than just a mark on beauty; they were a mark on her life, her soul, a painful memory of what had happened, what would happen, and how she couldn't change any of it. It was a reminder of who she had been, and who she was now.

She hated being the person she was now, the lady who had no face, who hid behind the paint and the fans in an effort to forget who she was. She hated that kimono, that had to be replaced at least once a month. She hated that wig that made her scalp itch, and dirty her true hair. She hated it all. But, it was her sanctuary.

She was a painted lady, a canvas for artists. She could be painted with a smile, a frown, a tear, or a sneer. Either way, she was painted, covered, unseen.

She could be anyone she wanted to be; she didn't have to be that girl from so long ago.

And that was exactly the way she wanted it.

_xxx_

There was a grim line to the man's mouth when he entered, his lips pressed tightly together in an effort to keep from exploding. Dio recognized that look, and that man, and he bit back a sigh, already knowing why the man was here, and what he wanted.

Dio let out the sigh now, leaning forward on his desk, "Cloud Strife. It's been a while."

Cloud merely nodded his head.

"I suppose you have some business here?"

"I suppose you already know why I'm here," Cloud shot back, a certain calm to his voice.

It unnerved Dio.

"And why, exactly, is that?"

Cloud narrowed his eyes, "How long has Tifa been here?"

Dio sighed, "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've been showcasing her to those..._people_ and haven't told us where she was. You must've known we were looking for her."

Dio's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Strife...I think you have yourself to blame, more than me."

"And just what do you mean by that?" Cloud asked, hands tightening into fists.

Dio eyed him carefully, "Tifa came here of her own free will. I assumed it was to get away from...someone."

Cloud glared at Dio, "And you think that someone was me?"

"Well, Cloud-

"What did you do to her?"

"What?"

"What happened to her face, to her arms, to her...chest. What did you do?" each word forced, each word strained.

"What are you talking about, I didn't do anything. She arrived here like that. I thought...something had happened with you."

Cloud's eyes widened slightly, "It wasn't you? I didn't know about her face. I don't know how it happened. Do you?"

Dio shook his head slightly, "No. Her face...I asked, but...she wouldn't say. She worked booths for a while, but...people...people were frightened, and...cruel. She didn't want that anymore. So, I came up with the idea of the Lady of Wutai. No one would see her face. No one would have to know. No one would recognize her."

Cloud's heart tightened slightly at this, "Why didn't she want to be recognized?"

Dio shrugged, "That's why I thought something had happened with you, or someone close."

Cloud averted his eyes, thoughts racing, "Where's her tent?"

"Cloud...you-

"Where is...her tent? I need to speak with her. Call her...bring her here, you're her boss."

Dio hesitated, "I...I can't do that."

"Why not?"

Dio averted his eye at Cloud's dangerous tone, "...she...asked me. Never tell, that's what she said. I shouldn't...have even acknowledged the fact she was here."

"What do you mean?" a slight quiver to Cloud's voice.

"She didn't want to be found."

"Just tell me where her tent is."

"Cloud...I-

"Tell _me_."

"The west side of the park, there's employee paths. It's behind the moogle stall," Dio bowed his head slightly at his betrayal.

Cloud nodded his head once, turning to leave.

"Strife. She isn't Tifa anymore. She's Rosalie. She isn't the woman you're looking for. That woman is not Tifa Lockhart. You're chasing a ghost."

Cloud paused slightly, eyes downcast, "No. She isn't a ghost. She'll always be Tifa."

_xxx_

She still didn't remember how she had found herself on the remains of the upper plate that fateful day, she just knew she was there; she just knew what it looked like. Dust and dirt, twisted metal, collapsed buildings, and fires. There had been fire everywhere, the acrid, thick black smoke plaguing the air. The smell of burnt flesh, of death, the sight of death, the feel of death. It all echoed across the wasteland, the destroyed city, the once incredible sight on the landscape, was even more incredible. It was more dangerous, defying, and that much more amazing destroyed and broken, leaning and sagging down against the dusty desert.

It was that much more beautiful than it had been as a proud city.

And in that moment, she realized just how appealing it was, just why everything had happened, why he did what he did.

And just how beautiful destruction could be.

_xxx_

There was that scar that pierced his chest every now and then, made him remember everything that had happened, and as he was walking the paths it hit him. A harsh pierce in his chest, then a hammer in his stomach, and he had to pause, kneel on the ground of the empty path. He felt her, and he couldn't stop feeling her. He felt her pain, her anger, her sadness, her emptiness, and her content loneliness. He felt it all pierce into that single, thin line that should just be a mark on his body, not his soul.

He wasn't sure if it was the mere fact that it was that _blade_that connected her feelings to him, or if it's just because they had gotten so close.

He doesn't know a lot of things, and he knew even less now that he had found her. Before, he thought it would be simple when he finally found her. He thought he would just pull her into his arms, and it would all be okay. He thought she would fling her arms around him, and bury her head in his shoulder, and he would rest a hand on her head, speak sweet nothings. A picture perfect reunion.

It was anything and everything but that, and he knew he should've expected something like what really happened, instead of the tiny daydream that had fought its way into his mind.

She disappeared about three years ago. He figured now that it had to do something with her face. The scars, the lines, the map of pain and suffering. He had never seen so many scars on one person. Barret had a scar, Nanaki did, Vincent as well, and Cid. Yuffie has one somewhere, and he knew for a fact he's got several.

But she...countless numbers. And he felt it in his heart again, and he saw her face in his mind again; white water dripping off her chin, kohl smeared down her cheeks, red splotches above her eyes, and the lines upon lines, and such broken eyes, eyes that held no hope; no feelings.

No soul.

**A/N: **Saegae made me do it! I'm so sorry for the late update...I really want this story to be perfect, and my beta-reader and I were having difficulty with email and our chapters...And I was feeling _so_ guilty for making you guys wait! IM SO SORRY! But, Saegae made me do it, Doggiegal...I swear...well, hopefully by the next chapter emails will be straightened out and we can get this thing properly beta-read...until then, you folks will just have to deal. I loved all of the reviews, and each of your opinion of the story and where it's going. I hope it baffles you, I'm going for that right now. ANYWAYS...hope to have all problems fixed out, I love you guys!


	3. What Was Lost

What Was Lost 

He entered as softly as he could, the fabric melding against his hand as he pushed it back. He hadn't expected her to retreat back to her tent, especially after what had happened, but there she is. She's relaxed against some pillows, dressed plainly, the make-up gone from her face, the wig now located on a mannequin's head.

He entered cautiously, eyeing her back, and by the slight shift to her shoulders, he realized that she knew he had come.

He almost dared to think she had been waiting for him.

"We need to talk," Cloud stated, firmly but softly.

"About what?" her voice sends a chill down his spine; he hasn't heard it in so long.

"About...everything that's happened."

She turned her head slightly to regard him, "Cloud Strife."

Cloud lifted his head slightly at the way she spoke his name. Soft and cool, almost as if she didn't know him personally, as if she was a stranger.

"Tifa."

"My name isn't Tifa," a bit to quickly, the words rushed together.

Cloud swallowed as she turned her head away from him. He doesn't know where to go with this, how to react towards her coldness. Maybe it's his own fault, he thought, for stepping in on a life she choose to live without them. Without him.

He shook his head once more, to clear these thoughts from his mind.

"Why?"

She shrugged, "It just isn't."

He's getting frustrated at the way she's acting, dodging questions, and being aloof.

He shifted on his feet, taking a different tactic, "You're right. You aren't Tifa."

He noticed the way her shoulders tensed even more, the way her fingers stopped fiddling with the ends of her hair. He noticed this all before turning and moving out of the tent once again.

She froze as he said that. He admitted it so easily, and just after seeing her for a moment. Just talking to her. He said what, five sentences, and he can already judge her.

A feeling stirred in her heart, a feeling she hadn't felt in so long, and she paused a moment, actually thinking it'd be best to let him walk out of her life for good.

But she lets the new feeling over come her.

She gave an indignant huff before standing quickly, marching out the tent, expecting to have to chase after him.

Her nose smashed up against his shoulder blade, causing him to jump slightly before turning.

"Sorry-

"What nerve do you think you have? Huh! Talking to me like that, who do you think you are? You...you just don't treat people like that!" she shoved his chest, and he stumbled back slightly.

He's shocked, really, after seeing nothing in her eyes, and yet here she stands, yelling at him.

"I have nerve? How did you just treat me in there, Tifa?" he asked, a bitter question.

She froze up again, before her cheeks flushed with rage, "That's different!"

"How?"

Her fists clench up at her sides and she grinded her teeth, "Because! You don't know! You don't know anything!"

"That's because you left. You didn't tell me anything."

Her jaw sort of fell as he said this, and he almost regretted saying it in the first place.

However, he figured she needed to hear it when her fist connected firmly with his jaw.

Cloud fell backwards, landing on his backside, more shocked and stunned than hurt. Sure, it damn well hurt, but still, the shock that she actually hit him was his major concern at the moment.

She bit back tears, holding it in, "What would it have mattered?" she asked bitterly, "Would you have even listened?"

It startled him when she leaned down and grabbed his face between her palms, and starred him straight in the eye.

"I'm not her anymore. I'm not Tifa. That's not who I am. Can't you see that? Do you even have to be told?" she whispered.

He swallowed, watching as she turned red, before releasing him and straightening.

"So, who are you, Rosalie?"

She pursed her lips and sighed, "I don't know who I am."

He stood slowly, cautiously, eying her fists, "Fine. You can call yourself that. I'll even call you Rosalie if you want...but," he paused slightly, walking back towards the tent, "You're still Tifa. You'll always be Tifa."

xxx

When you hate something, it truly burns your soul. Every time you see it, every time you smell it or hear it, it burns your heart, hurts it, makes it feel as if a thousand needles are sticking into it. It's a consuming feeling, a coarse, rough feeling, one that shouldn't be experienced.

From the moment she had arrived in Midgar, she had hated the city. She hated the inky darkness, and the green highlights the Mako reactors gave off. She hated the smell, always metal, a smell that burnt her nose and made her sneeze. She hated the sounds. The creaks and groan of the plate overhead, the chugging of the reactors.

She hated it all.

But she hated him the most, out of everything in the city, she hated him. She didn't see him, she didn't hear him, she didn't smell him, but her heart always hurt. She always hated him, no matter what she was doing, who she was with, a burning sensation always stayed with her.

She hated the city more now, though, because it was that city's fault for what happened to him, to make him do what he did.

However, when she stumbled across that man out by the train station so many years ago, her hate ebbed. She could forget; she could be happy, because...

She wasn't the only one who survived. She didn't have to feel guilty anymore, for being the only one left alive, for being left by herself.

She wasn't alone.

xxx

He'd seen many people die, many people hurt and ache and cry. He'd seen so much pain in his life, had that pain before, been that pain, caused that pain, he can almost ignore it. It hurt him sometimes, to think that someone felt like he did, someone hurt as much as he did, and he could've caused it. He did cause it. That was what plagued him, the fact that he could've made someone feel the way he did, cause them that much pain when they might not have deserved it.

Someone always cares for someone. Someone is always loved. Demons can only hold back human feelings for so long, someone will always care, despite the pain, despite what they've done, the mistakes they've made, someone will always want them to be okay, to be free.

He never knew why before, but maybe that's the reason why he felt guilty about killing that demon. Maybe there actually was someone out there that understood him, that wanted to fix him, make him better. Maybe there was someone out there who loved him or cared. He found it hard to believe there actually was, but, that didn't keep it from being possible.

After all, he never believed he'd be without her, and look where that had got him.

xxx

She glared at his back where he was sitting in the corner, fiddling with something Dio had given him. She had been ignoring Dio for the last eight days, attempting to ignore the significant pay raise she had gotten. Anger radiated off of her to the point where everyone avoided her, except for him. And that was the one person she wanted gone.

He got under her skin so easily, riled her up, made her turn red with frustration, made her ball up her fists and want to punch him. And he enjoyed it too, she just knew he did. He had declared that first night he was staying there with her. She didn't protest, but that didn't mean she acknowledged his presence, and he realized this after the first two days.

Still, even that didn't deter him. Sure, he wasn't persistent on talking, he'd never been, but he was always there. He came to everyone of her shows, sneaking in for free, and watched her. She could never find him, though, in the crowd, but she felt his eyes on her. She felt the way he watched each deliberate move, each twist and turn marking a time, a loss, in her past.

Still, somehow they had managed living together, again, forming their own system, until it became routine and she didn't give much thought of him being there. In fact, she found it hard remembering what it was like when he hadn't been there.

He'd mapped out each and every scar on her face, followed each path, and memorized each line. He would do this when she sat on her pillows, reading. He studied the way those lines twisted and contorted when she spoke, or when she frowned. He knew how they curved, how they bent, how they twisted with each smirk, each time she bit her lip.

He looked for a smile, though, and she rarely gave one. Amusement would light up her eyes every now and then, like it had that night she took down Reno, and she would give small smiles to the children that darted around the park.

But not Tifa's smile. She never gave Tifa's smile, that unbridled smile of hope and light, and love. He hadn't seen that once, or even anything compared to that.

He watched her from a distance, trying to piece together what little he knew, trying to figure out why she was the way she was, now. Why she wasn't Tifa, why she was this woman, this fake, this character she'd dreamt up.

It wasn't Tifa to do that, it wasn't Tifa to be that way. She was always suppose to be positive, bright, cheerful, and yet there she was, scars marking her face, and empty eyes, no sign of light in her face at all.

It was the two week marker he made some sort of progress, if it could be called that.

She huffed, watching Cloud has he tailed her across the empty park, closed for the morning. She had been having a particularly bad morning, that one scar burning across her chest, and she'd woken in a sour mood. She supposed later, that she really shouldn't have gotten mad at him, but, it felt good. It felt good, and that was strange, to feel at all.

So maybe ice cream wasn't the breakfast of champions, but dammit, she didn't care. She wanted something sweet, and she wanted it right then and there.

So when he came into the relatively empty mess hall that morning, yawning and scratching the back of his head, a perplexed look crossed his face.

She hadn't even abandoned her blanket from her bed. It was drooped off her shoulders, and she was wearing sweats, her bunny slippers hanging off her toes that she dangled off the bench. There was a large bowl of ice cream in front of her, half eaten, sprinkles and chunks of brownie, chocolate syrup drizzled across it, a little smudged on the corner of her mouth.

She didn't even look at him, the ice cream was calling her, and that was the only thing she wanted to see.

"Um...Teef...don't you think that's a bit of overkill there?"

All Raine knew was that the strange man that had been staying with Ms. Rosalie came running out of the mess hall that morning, ice cream dripping off his cheek, and hanging off the back of his head. He stopped running after a few feet, standing a ways before Raine, rubbing furiously at the back of his head. He let out a frustrated groan, trying to get the ice cream off his neck.

He let out a startled yelp when some of it dripped down his back.

"Fuck," he hissed, "Damn that's cold."

"That's two whippings for you," the little girl reprimanded him.

His head shot up, startled at being caught, and gave a sheepish grin, "Heh, sorry."

"Why is there ice cream on your head?"

"Um."

That was about the time Ms. Rosalie burst from the mess hall, bowl in hand, spoonful of ice cream in the other.

"Get back here Strife!"

"Shit!"

"Three."

The hunk of ice cream successfully connected with Cloud's back, in the very center, where it hung suspended for a moment before plopping on the ground.

Cloud's shoulders tensed as another chill ran through him, and then darted behind the little girl.

"Hold it, I have a hostage. Don't do anything stupid," he knelt down, hands on the girl's shoulders, head peeking out cautiously.

She let out a frustrated huff, stomping her foot once, and turning red.

"You better be glad, Strife, I want this ice cream...else you'd be in trouble," she pointed at the cowering man with her spoon.

She took a bite of ice cream, letting the spoon stick out of her mouth before proudly walking away.

"Who are you?" the little girl asked, as the man stood.

"Cloud Strife, you?"

"Raine," she held out a tiny hand, and he shook it.

"Well, thank you for the protection," he stated, beginning to walk off.

"Wait! Who are you?" she asked again.

Cloud narrowed his eyes, "I told you-

"No! You have to tell me who you are, like, to Ms Rosalie."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, she never yells. Who are you to make her yell? How? She's always so quiet. I've never seen her that red before. She's funny when she's angry," Raine observed.

Cloud sort of smirked, before glancing off to the side slightly, "You're right, she is funny when she's angry."

**A/N:** **Dude...to whoever pm'ed me about drawing Tifa **I like, so totally accidentally deleted your message, and I couldn't remember who...so, whoever it was! By all means, draw her! On one condition though, I have to see it. Anyone's welcome to draw anything from my stories, as long as you give credit, and show it to me! I love you! So, like, I'm giving up on my beta-reader for the moment. My email is so screwed up...either it's not being sent, or she's not getting it...I don't know. Agg! Saegae! When I read your review, 'no one's got the heart to do that to Tifa' I about died. I was like...damn, I guess I really am a bitch! I really appreciate all the reviews, and you're all so curious! Kikyo-hime! Your reviews are always very enthralling, I love them. I try to make these chapters long...BUT! That still means you guys are going to have to wait and see what's happening here! I love you! XP!


	4. Talking With Ghosts

Talking to Ghosts

He sat across from the young girl, her feet dangling off of the chair, her eyes intent upon her Sugar Chocobos. He studied them as well, the yellow chocobo marshmallows, and a few moogles mixed in. She twirled her spoon before looking up at him. She was a strange looking child, with a flat nose and a large chin. Her mouse-brown hair was pulled up into two braids, and her eyes were a large, emerald color.

"You have funny hair."

Cloud forced a smile, "Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment. It was an observation."

Cloud's smile fell; he'd never been good with children, even with Marlene. Still, this girl somehow reminded him of Marlene, using big words, and observing adults with large eyes, taking in more than her fair share as a child.

"Why does Ms. Rosie hate you?"

Cloud almost smirked, "She doesn't hate me."

"Then why does she yell at you?"

Cloud shrugged slightly.

"She doesn't yell at anyone. She doesn't _yell_. She doesn't really even talk to anyone. She doesn't turn red, why do you make her turn red?"

Cloud shrugged again.

Raine dropped her eyes back the bowl of cereal, pushing a lone chocobo around before replying, "Maybe...maybe it's because she loves you. When people love each other, they turn red."

Cloud's eyes widened slightly, and he swallowed.

"I...I don't think she loves me," he replied, his voice subdued.

"Did she use to love you? Did you give her that ring?"

Cloud frowned, "Yes."

"Yes you gave her the ring, or yes she loved you?"

Why was he discussing this with a child, honestly?

"Both. Or, at least she said she loved me."

Raine shrugged, "Then she still loves you."

Cloud narrowed his eyes, watching the girl take another bite of cereal, "And how do you know?"

The girl slurped some of her milk, wiping a bit that dribbled off her chin, "Mumma says that even though Papa died, she still loves him, and that he still loves her," she says this without malice, or pain, just in a neutral tone.

"Your father?"

She nodded, "He died when the big ceiling fell."

Cloud narrowed his eyes, and then it hit him. The big ceiling. The plate.

"You lived in Midgar?"

"When I was little."

He doesn't point out she's still little.

"How old are you?"

She grins, "Eight and a half!"

Cloud tipped his eyes up slightly, calculating in his head. It'd been five years since Meteor, so that meant this girl's father died when she was three. He felt the guilt pinch his heart again, a feeling he'd become accustomed to after speaking with many victims of that incident.

It was his fault.

"I'm sorry," he doesn't think it'll do much good.

"I think I'll be sorry when I'm older."

Cloud's brow wrinkled in confusion; that was something a child shouldn't say, that was too far above them.

"Ms. Rosie says it gets harder as you get older. People think the hardest is when it happens, but it gets harder when you get older. She says that's when it gets harder because you have time to actually think about it, what you lost, the mistakes you made, and why you're still around. When it first happens, you're too busy grieving to be guilty...too busy crying to realize you could've changed what happened."

"She tells you this?" Cloud asked, incredulously.

Raine blushed, bowing her head, a child caught, "Not directly."

"You eavesdrop?"

Raine nodded her head, finishing off the last of her milk, "Yep."

"You said she doesn't talk, who does she tell it to, then?"

"To the silver man," she shrugged her shoulders.

Cloud frowned, "Is he in a show, too?"

Raine laughed, "No. He's a ghost."

Cloud blinked, "A...ghost?" Tifa was talking to ghosts?

"Yep...his name's...S-S-Sefearoff...something like that. I can't pronounce it."

Cloud froze, his eyes going wide again, "Sephiroth?" he whispered.

"That's it."

_xxx_

She knew she'd been away from him for a long time, but still, she knew when he was upset. He knew when his ghosts were eating him. She turned, watching him walk out of the mess hall, crossing the empty walkways in a daze.

Something had gotten to him, it might've been Raine, she mused.

Raine was a disturbing child; Marlene had always been smart, but she knew when a child shouldn't say things, even if she knew them. Raine has no perception of this. To hear a child speak as if she has the wisdom of the world on her shoulders is frightening. Is disconcerting. It leaves you shaken and worried, worried that you're too behind the times when a child is out thinking you.

She shrugged; it was bound to happen to him sooner or later. It happened to all of them.

Still, it didn't do her any good to know that his last bit of innocence had been stolen. It's hard to believe he had any left in him, but she knows from experience. She thought she'd been through everything, that nothing could rattle her, when she had arrived here.

Her last shard of innocence had been shattered though, when she found a child that understood the world's tragedies.

_xxx_

He swallowed as he dialed the familiar numbers, waiting for an answer.

"Yeeah?" the voice on the other line, gruff and strained.

"Is this a bad time?"

Clank!

"Fuck! Son of a fucking bitch! God...fuck...dammit! Shit!"

"Are you okay, Cid?"

"Fuck no! It's not everyday one drops a fucking hammer on their toe, Cloud."

"It's nice to hear your voice too."

"Are you done playing games, or are you going to tell me something, asswipe?"

"I miss you too."

Cloud heard Cid mutter a few words beneath his breath, "How long...four months since the last update, Cloud?"

"I called Barret two months ago. I'm sorry he didn't call you."

"Don't get smart with me, boy. I'll whoop your ass from here to fuckin Promised Land."

"Thank you for keeping me humble, Cid."

"So, what you got for us? Any luck?"

"I took a lead to The Gold Saucer," Cloud replied, scuffing his boot on the ground.

"Really? That's strange. Have you made it back to the bar yet?"

"I can't leave."

Cid scoffed, "The bar? You were the one who said you could stop life and go, bitch, so keep going."

"No Cid, I'm not at the bar."

"So where the fuck are you?"

"Gold Saucer."

Cloud listened to the sound of Cid's breath for a moment, "What?"

"I found her, Cid."

"Y-you found her?" Cid's voice was serious.

"...or, at least I think I did."

"Don't be cryptic with me, Cloud. Either you found the girl or not. Which is it?"

"Physically, yes. Mentally...I'm not so sure."

"My God! What is with you two?! You get smart, and she goes crazy? One of you has to be mental! Is that a requirement in your relationship?!"

"I don't think she's crazy, Cid."

"She's just lost her mind."

"I think...she's confused. Something happened."

"Well, no shit. She disappeared for three years. Something had to of happened. Either she's dead or she went crazy. Well, she isn't dead according to you, so I guess-

"She isn't crazy, Cid."

Cid shut up at the seriousness of Cloud's voice. There was a moment of silence.

"So what happened?" Cid asked, a curious tone to his voice.

"...her face. It's nothing but scars. I can barely get her to talk. She threw ice cream at me today, but that's about as far as I've gotten."

"...she threw ice cream at you."

"Yes," Cloud replied.

"Right. I knew you two had some weird fetish-

"Cid!" Cloud sighed, "I'm afraid if I leave now, she will leave here. I'll have to find her all over again."

"She won't leave?" Cid asked, amazed.

"Cid, she won't even call herself Tifa. It's bad."

"...but she does know she's Tifa, correct?"

"Yes, Cid. She's just...hiding."

"If you say so," Cid replied dubiously.

"Will you call the others, let them know?"

"Of course!" Cid sighed, "You'll pull her out, right?"

"I'm going to try."

Cid sighed, long and heavy, "Don't lose her again, Spike."

"I won't."

_xxx_

He figured the time she'd talk to this ghost would be when she was alone. He'd never heard her speak to the air, and he figured if Raine could eavesdrop, so could he.

It wasn't as if he hadn't spoken to ghosts before, either. He'd spoken to Aerith on many occasions, Zack, and his mother. Always apologizing, but speaking of the future, how things were going even though he felt as if they already knew.

And he had spoken to Sephiroth, as well. Yells and screams of hate and anger at the top of his lungs on a cliff over Midgar.

That was how he spoke to Sephiroth.

But by the way Raine had spoken of Tifa, she talked to Sephiroth as if she was carrying on a conversation. A conversation you reserved for ghosts like Aerith, and Zack. A conversation with ghosts that loved you; ghosts that had given you something, not the ghost that destroyed everything you had.

And ghosts weren't suppose to talk back.

_xxx_

"Maybe I am crazy," she mused, twirling a lock of hair on her finger.

_The world's crazy, that's what it is._

"When I dance, I feel like I can forget everything. I still feel like I'm fighting, though. I feel...I feel my spirit move through the dance, I feel myself fighting when I dance. I use kicks, twirls, punches, and people don't even realize. Maybe it's because I hold the fan. I bet that makes me look like a ditz."

_It adds character to your character._

She smirked, "Strange, though. I feel like I'm fighting when I'm dancing, and I feel like I'm dancing when I'm fighting."

_Masamune was a wonderful dancing partner._

"I suppose it depends on who you dance with...or what you dance with in your case."

_Is it because you're dodging me when you're dancing, that you feel like you're fighting?_

She tilted her head slightly considering, "Makes more sense than my explanation."

_Do tell._

She swallowed, "When...when I was fighting you, or anyone, I..." she smiled goofily, "I always imagined I was dancing. That's what I wanted to do, you know? When I was a kid. I wanted to dance. I loved to play the piano, and I loved to sing and fight. But I loved to dance more. That was my secret. I thought I couldn't dance, so I didn't. But I pretended I was dancing when I was fighting. It was my secret, that only I knew about, that no one else could know. Because, everyone builds an image of you, right? You had an image, before you went psycho-

_That was out of context. Matter of opinion in my opinion._

"-you were the great hero, right? You had that image to uphold. If someone found out you pretended to dance when you were fighting, wouldn't that destroy it? Wouldn't that hamper it? Even if you don't want that image...we always keep it up. We build that image without even knowing, and before you know it...we're stuck. It's a part of us, but it isn't all of us. I couldn't show people I was dancing. No one wanted to see a dancing Tifa."

_People cling to images. I was a hero, and then I tried to destroy the planet. Images do nothing for people except expose the fools they are when they're proven wrong._

"What was your secret, if you don't mind."

_Mine? You danced...and well, me? I had a lovely leaf collection._

_xxx_

"It's hard sometimes, to figure it all out. I can't hear the ghost, but sometimes, I see him."

"You see him?"

"Sure," Raine replied, "It took me a while, I had to look for him to see him, first. He's in her shows, you know? Here though, he sits on the pillows beside of her. They never touch each other. But they talk, like she never talks."

Cloud swallowed, "You can't hear him though?"

Raine huffed, frustrated, "Sometimes I catch a word or two. Just a little pinch. Sometimes I don't. I think, sometimes, the ghost wants to be heard, and sometimes he doesn't."

"What've you heard?"

"That he hates the world and people, and that he isn't guilty for what he's done. She always replies that she hates him too, it's a mutual relationship, she'll say. Still, they sit there and they carry on conversations like it's no ones business. They understand each other, and they hate each other, yet they still talk civilly. They have some of the most brightest and intriguing conversations. It's confusing, and one of the greatest things I've ever heard in my life."

"But you don't know both halves."

"Not all the time, but I've gotten pretty good a figuring out what the silver man says. I'm like an expert," she chirps.

"You don't hear him."

She sighs, annoyed, "No."

"I do."

Her eyes go wide, "You do?!"

"I wish I didn't," he replies. "I wish _she_ didn't."

"What's he say?" she pleads, eyes wide.

"He had a lovely leaf collection."

**A/N:** Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Bet you weren't expecting this, now were you? Ohh, tell me your thoughts, tell me your opinions...I hope you like it, but I could understand why you wouldn't.


	5. When You Think About It

When You Think About It

He watched her, like he did every night before they went to sleep. He watched as she thumbed through another worn book. There was a pile of them in one corner of the large, red tent. She had categorized them in her own special system that Cloud couldn't figure out for the life of him. He'd poked around them once, and she threw a shoe at his head.

She was much more violent towards him now.

He wondered if it was because she spoke to Sephiroth, or if he was really just that annoying.

He wondered if he could actually talk to Sephiroth.

"You look upset," her voice broke his thoughts.

He blinked, focusing in on the present. She hadn't even looked up from her book. He didn't respond. He felt like should, but he didn't. He blinked again, turning slightly, frowning, and then turning again.

Now she looked up from her book, "What's wrong?"

"You're instigating the conversation?"

"Fine, never mind then," she stated coolly, lifting up her book.

"Do you ever think of them? Of us?"

She blinked, looking back up, "What?"

"Did you ever feel guilt? For leaving? Cid, Barret, Yuffie, Nanaki, Vincent...me? Did you ever think of what you did to us?"

And God she looked so sad when he said that, and he watched her blink twice, look away, and then met his eyes again.

She swallowed, "I always thought of what I might do if I stayed."

Cloud knew she thought that wouldn't make sense to him, but now that he knew she talked to Sephiroth, it did. Well, it didn't, but he thought it could a bit. If it had to do with Sephiroth, then it was probably dangerous.

"What happened to your face?"

"It's none of your concern," she stated, lifting her book back up.

"I think I'll decide what's my concern, thank you."

"And I'll decide how much of me is your concern."

"You just contradicted me."

"Does it really surprise you at this point?" she asked, getting irritated.

"No. I'd just thought I'd let you know."

"You enjoy it, don't you?"

"What?" he asked, innocently.

"Getting on my nerves. Messing with my head. You like to do it."

He shrugged, "It has its perks."

She huffed, slamming her book down before glaring at him.

He swallowed, "But it's the only thing that'll make you feel."

Her eyes swelled at that. He wanted her to feel. He wanted her to _feel_, even if feeling was just anger and irritation.

"Did you ever think that was dangerous? Feeling?"

"For you, or me?" Cloud asked.

"For both of us."

"It's safe too," he argued.

"No, it isn't. It isn't safe to feel. The moment you feel is the moment it all falls apart, and you wish you never felt anything at all."

"But if you don't feel, you wish you felt."

"No. No you don't," she lifted her book up again.

She was not going to have this conversation with him.

He averted his eyes, "Then why are you still here?"

She blinked big, turning her head at him, thoroughly confused, "What?"

"If you didn't want to feel...why are you still here? I make you feel, so why do you stick around when you could run away again?"

She turned off the light.

_xxx_

He wanted to try, really. He wanted to talk to Sephiroth. He wanted to carry on a civil conversation with him. He couldn't do that, and she could. Even when that demon had been alive, he hadn't been able to carry a conversation with him, even before he turned demon.

And yet he still felt guilty. Someone had to care about him. Someone always cared.

And he still hated Sephiroth. He hated him with every fiber of his being. Zack died because of him, his mother, his town burned. Tifa was hurt because of him. He killed Aerith. He destroyed Midgar. He wanted to destroy the whole world.

And yet, he still felt guilty for killing that demon.

He wondered if Tifa felt guilty for killing him. Was there a chance to save the demon? Can a demon be redeemed? Can it be good?

He didn't know. He supposed they could've tried, but he knew now Sephiroth still hated everything in death.

Even if someone loved the demon, he couldn't love back.

And yet Sephiroth still spoke to Tifa so civilly...so...human.

Could a demon be a human, even if he didn't realize it?

And could a human be a demon, even if they did realize it?

_xxx_

"So you want me to run away?" she cornered him behind the Ferris wheel.

"Huh?" he asked, pausing from picking up some trash.

He had to earn his stay somehow.

"You want me to run away again, or are you just daring me?"

There was heat in her eyes, anger, "I don't want you to run away."

"Then why did you tell me to?" she spat.

"I didn't tell you to. I asked why you hadn't. If you didn't want to feel, why aren't you running now? You're feeling now, aren't you? You're angry at me."

"That isn't fair."

"What?" he asked.

"I'll run away then, if just to prove you wrong."

"How would you prove me wrong?"

She huffed, "You said I didn't want to feel...that I'd run away if I didn't want to feel. But you say I do, because I'm still here. So I'll leave. That's how," she was getting flustered.

"You'd only be proving me right."

"_What_?" she hissed.

"Well...if you would've ran that first night, you would be right...in saying you didn't want to feel. But since you're still here, you're only running to prove me wrong. You're running out of determination to prove me wrong, to have that satisfaction at the end of the race. You'd be feeling...only you'd be feeling triumphant instead of beaten."

Crack!

That was the second time she'd punched him in three weeks.

"I hate you," she hissed.

"You're feeling again," he said rubbing his jaw.

She let out a frustrated growl before stomping away.

_xxx_

"You made her feel again," Raine mused over breakfast the next day.

She was starring at his bruised jaw.

"I did, didn't I? You eavesdrop on us, too?"

It'd become ritual since that first morning for him to eat breakfast with the girl. It was strange for any of the employees to see the little girl sitting with the large ex-SOLDIER. It was even stranger that they spoke on equal levels, and that the man wasn't dropping down. Sometimes Cloud got the feeling Raine was dropping down to his level, really. Still, he appreciated the friendship, and he got a lot of information out of her. That and she was incredibly intelligent, and very interesting.

She gave a giggle, "I don't eavesdrop. People just fail to notice me."

"I think you're too mischievous for your own good," Cloud told her over his own bowl of Sugar Chocobos.

"Mumma just says I'm curious."

"That's an understatement."

The girl was a walking computer. She stored near all of the information she'd learned in her short life, and it had added up quite quickly.

"What're you going to do when you learn everything?" Cloud asked.

"I'll teach the world how to be better."

"The world isn't up to your standards?"

"Not all of it."

"Oh really," Cloud asked, curiosity getting the better of him, "What's lacking, Rainy?"

She giggled at her nickname, "Life. Love. Happiness. That's really all you need, yet that's the least of all in the world."

People glanced at Cloud warily as they entered, he glanced back. People would start to think he was good with children, which he wasn't. He was just good with this child, and that was only because she wasn't really a child.

He'd heard people musing a few times these last few days saying, "There is no rain without clouds."

Still, the child had willingly taken on the mission of opening Tifa up, at least more than just to her ghostly...acquaintance.

"More?" he asked, pouring some cereal into his bowl.

"Yes, please," she pushed her bowl across to him.

"Will you teach me?"

"Hmm?" he pushed her bowl back.

"Thank you. How to annoy Ms. Rosie."

"No. I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

"She can barely stand one of me. How do you think if she had you on her case, too?" he asked.

She smiled sadly, "True. Will you at least tell me what happened?"

"To her face? I don't know."

"No. Not that. To you two. To your past. I know about Meteor, and everything...so why aren't you two together anymore?"

He smirked, "You aren't curious about her face? You're curious about everything."

"Not when I know it."

He swallowed, her expression going serious, "You know...what happened?"

She scoffed, "Well, duh. It was the silver man."

_xxx_

Did she want to feel again, really? Did she want to open herself back up to that pain? To that love? To that happiness and that anger?

With one comes the other. Light cannot exist without dark. Dark cannot exist without light.

Good cannot exist without evil.

But darkness isn't necessarily evil, though, is it? Light can be evil. Dark can be evil, but it can be good, too. It's a common misconception, really.

You could be evil, and not do anything. You could be good, and not do anything. If you were good, and you didn't do anything, wasn't that being evil? Having the power to do something, but not doing anything at all, that was evil.

It isn't about whether your light or dark. It isn't about whether your evil or good.

It just matter what you did.

So didn't that mean it mattered what you felt?

But didn't you feel everything? Or did you feel nothing?

And if so, which was good, and which was bad? Which was evil?

_xxx_

Cloud sat in her tent behind her dresser. He'd left Raine out this time. It was late, and Tifa still wasn't back.

What if she'd taken up his dare? His challenge? What if she did run away.

There was a rustle of fabric, and he felt himself relax.

Raine hadn't known what had happened, but she said she'd heard Tifa mention on more than one occasion about what the silver man had done to her face.

That was the answer Cloud was looking for. What did Sephiroth do to her face? And better yet, how the hell did he do it?

She sighed from somewhere, and he figured she was around her vanity, pulling off her wig. He had found that she didn't break down that much, just on those nights when she saw someone she knew.

"That was _awful_."

For a moment he almost responded, but then remembered he was listening.

_Awful doesn't even begin._

"I hate people."

_I know._

"If they don't want to see the show, they shouldn't come in. Simple as that. They're so spoiled."

_Now you see what I was talking about._

"Just because I don't get along with them doesn't mean I'm going to kill them."

_It's a shame. I could've had a partner in crime._

"You would've killed me once they were all dead."

_You see right through me._

"In more ways than one."

Cloud peered cautiously around the dresser, seeing Tifa in front of her mirror, freeing her hair. He doesn't see Sephiroth though.

He could see a transparent foot. It's his foot, and he knew it was.

He didn't think he wanted to see anymore. He might go into a rage and blow his cover.

No, he thought, he definitely would.

He meant to look away, but that was before she began to undo the kimono's ties. That was before he saw her back.

There were a few scars on her back, not near as many as on her face. She stripped down to her underwear, a black strapless bra, and lacy panties.

He felt his breath hitch as she turned, tying her hair up in a twisting fashion.

She's still had even more scars, but he had never seen a more beautiful person in his life. Even with those scars, to him, she was the most beautiful creature that ever walked the planet.

And she was getting undressed in front of Sephiroth's ghost.

How do you get jealous of a ghost, really?

"Did you ever think for a second you were the spoiled one?" she asked him, walking towards the dresser.

Cloud ducked back behind it.

_No._

"I think you were. You were spoiled."

_Hardly._

"I'm not saying you were showered with things, material objects and what not. I don't think you would've cared. You're spoiled because you think you're the most perfect creature out there."

_Oh?_

"Yes. And you know it."

_Maybe._

"Is that why you did it? Why you burned towns? Scarred me? Is that why you destroyed Cloud's mind? Scarred the planet?"

_What are you getting at?_

"I'm getting at the fact that you didn't want anything to be more beautiful than you. We weren't, but you didn't even want to give anyone that chance."

Cloud felt the air in the room tingle. He saw the lights dim.

"Is that why you killed Aerith? Because you were jealous? Because she was perfect and beautiful? She was even perfect in death. She's still perfect. Just because you killed her doesn't make her any less perfect. And you...you were far from it."

He actually heard the wood splinter. He actually heard it. He saw the ghost of Masamune plunge through the back of the dresser. He heard the wood crack, he heard the clothes rip, even though the wood didn't crack, even though the clothes didn't rip.

Tifa's voice was triumphant, "You can't hurt me anymore. You can't hurt someone who isn't alive. You can't take away anything when I've got nothing left."

_Not yet, I can't. Do you think you can keep up the charade for much longer? When he sleeps but mere feet from you? Can you handle that for much longer? I'll finish the job I started, don't you worry._

He heard Tifa fall to her knees and start crying the moment Sephiroth's presence was gone.

His only regret was not being able to walk in and hold her.

**A/N: **Dramatic chapter...and Cloud just keeps getting punched...heh, I knew I'd catch you off guard with Sephy...he's just like that...and the whole leaf collection? Well, the whole conversation was about images, and I tried to think of something completely unsephy, and that's what I came up with. I'll respond to reviews next chappie, swear. I just need sleep now (erg...2:13 AM...my internal clock is so fucked up) till next time loves!


	6. When Past And Future Collide

When Past and Future Collide

"What do you think he meant by that?"

Cloud shrugged, poking at his soggy chocobos with his spoon.

Raine nodded thoughtfully, "He must've meant her face. But...what else could he do to her?"

_He could kill her._

He didn't have the heart to say this though, so he just shrugged his shoulders again.

Raine studied him, watched how his head was drooped, how his eyes were out of focus. She wondered if he would be okay again.

"Will...will she ever be normal?"

Cloud looked up, "Who? Tifa?...I don't know."

"Why do you call her that?"

Cloud blinked, caught off guard, "Because that's her name, even if she doesn't want it to be. Even if she doesn't want the past that comes with it. It's her name."

"Her past, though, it comes with the silver man too, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

Raine frowned, "Well, then she hasn't moved on from her past...or else the silver man wouldn't bother with her, would he?"

"Makes sense. I guess he wouldn't."

Raine grinned, "Then she still loves you."

Cloud averted his eyes, thinking of Sephiroth's words. How did he tie into all of this, really? Did love have something to do with this? What was it that made him dangerous to Tifa? What was it that drove Sephiroth after Tifa, and kept him from her?

"You should talk to her."

Cloud stepped back into reality, and smirked, "Me talking isn't the problem for once. It's her talking. The only one she talks to though..."

Raine pursed her lips, "The silver man. I like him."

Cloud blinked, "What?"

"I like him. He's different. He's smart."

"He's cruel, Raine, and not to be trusted. He killed many people...he wouldn't hesitate to do it again."

She bit her lip, "Maybe. But you know, I said what we need in this world. Life, love, happiness. He doesn't have life, and he isn't happy. So...someone has to love him, right?"

_xxx_

"We need to talk."

She turned quickly, surprised, looking towards the entrance to the tent, "What?"

Cloud advanced, "We need to talk."

She'd never heard his voice this firm, not in the time he'd been with her. It'd been a month since he showed up, and hadn't left her.

She'd left him, and it stung her heart to remember that.

She stared at him warily, "About what?"

He walked on towards her, pointing a finger at her, "It's okay if you want to destroy your life, but not someone else's."

"What?" she was thoroughly confused.

He kept moving closer, a slow, steady, determined walk, "Maybe you thought leaving would help us, I don't know because you won't tell me anything. But you may think you're being selfless, but you aren't. You're destroying peoples lives."

"What is wrong with you?" she bit back.

He was close, and she backed away, frightened under his intent gaze, "What's wrong with me? If your mind wants to twist to his words that's fine...that's your decision...but when you endanger the life of an innocent child, no matter how smart that child is...you have to remember, they're still a child."

Her back hit her vanity, "Are you talking about Raine?"

He nodded once.

"H-how am I hurting her?"

"Because you keep letting him in, and if you keep letting him in, he'll only keep coming," he planted his hands on either side of her, trapping her, "You're destroying lives."

She suddenly felt like this wasn't just about Raine, "I don't understand, Cloud. Make me understand what you're saying."

She almost reached out to soothe him, to rub his arm, but then she remembered she wasn't his anymore. He wasn't her's, even though she wore his ring.

Even though he wore her ring.

Something hit his heart when she said that. Something that echoed of the past, and her eyes found his again. He felt his determination shattering under her gaze, so he blinked away; looked away; walked away.

It may have been the biggest mistake he ever made.

_xxx_

He had been furious, there was no denying that. He had been furious for walking away, furious for confronting her, furious for not kissing her.

Furious for not taking her like he would've three years ago.

They'd been married for a year, he remembered; a year after Meteor they were together, a year later, they were apart.

He had been worried, he'd been scared. She'd ran away; he thought she had been kidnaped, he thought she had been taken, he thought everything that could possibly of happened happen.

Except that she left of her own accord.

They'd stuck with him for a while, stood by his side, his friends; they had helped him search for as long as they could, but after a while, you could only hold onto your friends for so long. You could only have them help if they were helping.

They weren't hindering, but they weren't helping.

And he set out to find her, and he did. Or, at least he thought he had.

Three years ago, Tifa would've not been hiding in herself.

Three years ago, she would've fought back.

Three years ago, she wouldn't have talked to Sephiroth.

Three years ago, she would've wanted to kiss him as fiercely as he wanted to kiss her.

_xxx_

_I keep seeing it happen._

She moved against the tide of her thoughts, curbing them, trying to concentrate on her steps.

But she couldn't, not tonight. She dodged Masamune gracefully, twisting here and there, but every now and then, she heard the tiny shred of fabric that wasn't shredded. She heard it, she felt it, but she didn't feel it.

She couldn't concentrate, that conversation still burning a path through her mind. He had sounded as if he knew about Sephiroth, as if he knew about her ghosts.

But he couldn't, could he?

She couldn't focus, her eyes were on one place, and everywhere at the same time.

She'd never been able to find him. She'd always known he was there. She'd always felt his eyes.

She didn't feel his eyes for the first time in a month. She felt Masamune for the first time in three years.

She heard the screams, when the blood erupted from her, staining through the red of the kimono, splattering her painted face. She heard them, even though she couldn't see anything except for one thing.

Those eyes. Those green eyes.

They were suppose to be _his_ eyes watching her, not the demon's.

_xxx_

Screams were pretty common in an amusement park, something Cloud had become accustomed to. Still, he could actually feel the difference in the tone of screams. He could feel the difference between the people on the roller coaster, and the people in the auditorium.

The auditorium where Tifa was.

That was when he had started running towards them, but people were fleeing so fast out of the entrance, it was impossible to push against the tide of bodies.

"What happened?! What happened!" he shouted at them, but none of them even glanced at him.

That was when he saw _him._ He walked calmly in the midst of the panicked crowd, his back to Cloud. He strode with grace and ease, purpose and triumph.

There was blood on his sword.

People ran through him, some ran around him, almost as if they sensed his presence.

He could've let it slide, he knew that much, he had to get to Tifa. There was more important matters here.

Maybe he would've gone to Tifa, if he hadn't seen Sephiroth walk over to a small child and take her hand.

Any other child would've ran. Any other child would've screamed.

But this was Raine, and she was in love with the man.

_xxx_

She screamed, she screamed louder than all the people in that accursed room, and she screamed even longer and louder than she thought possible.

It was a heart wrenching scream, it quickened people's pulses, made them pity her, and hate her in the same moment. Made them want to run to help her, and flee from her at the same time.

And it wasn't even a world, not a syllable, just this blood-curdling scream that made her believe people were running from her scream, more than her blood.

It wasn't a bad wound, she'd suffered worse, she knew that. But it was Masamune. It was that sword, and it was that man, and she wasn't suppose to be able to feel it. She had let go.

She _had_ let go, until he showed up.

No, she'd never let go, she'd just forgotten...just went into denial.

And it took a while before she realized the scream was a word, and it was a desperate scream, and it slowly died, it slowly went into a repetitive whisper, a furtive mantra.

Curled up on the stage, her kimono bloodied and ripped, wig long discarded, tears cutting tracks down her face, the painted woman whispered the name of her lost lover.

"_Cloud._"

_xxx_

_Just because I fade into the darkness, just because you made me mortal, just because you stole my body, my dream, my future...I will not disappear._

_I will never die._

_I will never be a memory._

_xxx_

"Raine! Raine!" Cloud dodged another person, shoving through the crowd.

It was getting harder to keep up with the odd pair,the way they moved was eery. It almost looked like Sephiroth wasn't the only ghost.

Why did Raine trust him? Or did she even trust him? Could she actually love him unconditionally? Could love come without trust?

She was a child, and a child could do anything, feel anything.

And what about Tifa? How could he just leave her there? Raine, she was important to him, but Tifa...he loved Tifa. How could he have left her?

Because Raine was a child. Raine couldn't take care of herself, and Tifa could. Or, at least the old Tifa could. He wasn't too sure now, whether or not Tifa could take care of herself.

And was there any hope if Masamune could still mark her, even when Sephiroth was a ghost? Even when he was dead?

Some ghosts, they could live on in death, couldn't they? They could be alive while being dead, but that didn't make sense to Cloud. Nothing made sense to him, not anymore at least. Nothing had made sense since that moment he came home that night long ago; when he came home to an empty house, an empty world, an empty life.

Somewhere in these thoughts he lost them. Somewhere, they disappeared, they were gone, and he couldn't see them, and he couldn't find them.

He feared that was the last time he'd ever see Raine again.

_xxx_

There comes a time in your life when nothing makes sense, but you understand how it all got that way. Tifa understood this. She understood finally, that it didn't matter how much she ran, how much she hid or changed, she would always be Tifa. She would always be that woman she had tried to erase from her past, and her mind.

She couldn't have, though, especially with that ghost on her heels every step of the way.

Why hadn't he come? Where was he? He was late again, that was it, she told herself. He'd be here soon, he'd always been late. That was him. Maybe, maybe if he hadn't been late that night, he could've saved her, kept her from leaving.

Of course, if that would've happened, it could've led to their ultimate demise, their defeat.

It was her fault, it was always her fault. She should've been stronger; she should've ran and kept running the moment she saw Cloud. She had told herself she could now live with him around, but she'd been lying. She had just wanted to see him. She'd just wanted to be with him, despite the consequences it would undoubtedly lead to.

And now he wasn't here, the one time she wanted him here, he wasn't, the one time she was admitting it to herself, that she wasn't lying anymore.

And Sephiroth had left her here to suffer.

He could've killed her, or at least gotten in a better wound, but this, this was just a precursor to things to come, she felt. He was right, she couldn't keep up the charade anymore, and she didn't care. She wanted to be in his arms, be in his heart again; she wasn't thinking of what would happen because of that.

When she had left, she told herself only one of us needed to suffer. She hadn't thought of how she made Cloud suffer.

So, in maybe some twisted way Sephiroth had gotten part of what he wanted, just based on Tifa's decisions alone. He wanted them both to suffer, and it didn't take killing either one of them to make it happen.

That fateful day on the Midgar ruins, that day when she understood and saw the beauty in destruction, that was the day Sephiroth appeared. In that moment, he came, walking up along the torn plate, sliding through the twisted metal, becoming more solid the closer he got to Tifa.

She didn't run, and she didn't know why she didn't run; he might've just been a ghost.

Still, she dodged the ghost when he made a viscous slash at her waist. He had chuckled.

And then they were fighting, and she was fighting the hardest she'd ever fought before, which she thought was strange, because she was fighting a ghost.

That was the reason why she didn't dodge that blow. That was the thing that lead to the first scar, the one that Cloud had saw from beneath the kimono.

And she'd been in too much shock to block anymore. That was how she was mangled, destroyed. And when she had toppled down, falling, she thought of her death, her doom, as she watched the ghost above her. She thought of everything she was losing in this moment, and it scared her; not because she was dying, but because she knew who he would go after next.

He had come after her first, because she'd been the first to survive his blade. He had to finish that job before he could move on to Cloud.

She still didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse she fell through the roof of that church.

All she knew was that she had to get away from Cloud, had to get away from him and Sephiroth, protect Cloud; make sure he never suffered. Make sure he never died by Sephiroth's sword.

**A/N: **Dun dun dunnnnn...so the truth comes to light. Not only was it really Sephy who did the damage, but Cloud and Tifa married?! Yep, that's right XP Course, with teh rings, I hoped ya'll figured it out sooner...pleh...I am about to pop. Easter was good to me. XD!

**onewingedangel: **Raine is teh awesomeness. Hope this chapter help to clear your confusion of Tifa's intentions. Thanks for reviewin!  
**Sael! **Yes, he is. I enjoy writing Cloud as a smartass. I warned everyone at the beginning, no angsty emo ass Cloud in this fic! Thanks for reviewin! And I'll read your new story soon, promise. Lookin forward to it! XD  
**Peanuckle: **Seph will always be a violent guy...you can't let a sword like Masamune go to waste. Anyways, thanks for reviewin! And hopefully this help to clear up why Seph can't hurt Tifa. If not, there will be more elaborating next chappie.  
**cerberus! **oh, now you know what he started...mean bastard Thanks for reviews!  
**talim: **Thanks, I was hoping the ghost scene would work out!  
**Binkledup: **haha, yes Seph saw Tifa in her underthings. How vulgar. Thanks for review!  
**bangon tehhead: **Thanks! I'm glad you love it, and I hope this chapter was good enough for ya!  
**Kikyo-Hime! **heh, yes, poor Tifa. I'm cruel, I know. Yesh, I understand the characters aren't exactly themselves...but, with pending circumstances (And me completely removing AC from the pic) I'm hoping it'll even out. Thanks for the review and compliments! XD  
**Eveelee: **Thanks so much! You're so kind! sometimes it is hard to find good fics, you just got to know where to look. But I appreciate the compliments! Hope this chappie was up to your standards!


	7. Don't Hold Back

Don't Hold Back

She pushed her palms flat, trying to force herself up off of the stage floor. She was crying, she didn't know when that had started. Her elbows gave out though, and she collapsed back to the floor, the wood creaking loudly in her ear. She didn't know what to do. She knew something terrible had happened, something even more terrible than Masamune piercing her skin again.

"Cloud..." her voice was pained, watery, her mouth scrunched up in a strange fashion.

It had all gone wrong. Everything she had done to try and protect him had backfired.

And she sobbed again, picking up her mantra, trying to stay on the surface, and not fall into the depths of her mind, for that would surely summon the demon.

She jumped when she felt palms press into her shoulders, trying to lift her up.

"No!" she cried out, beating fists against a solid chest, trying to fight.

"It's okay, Tifa. It's me."

Tifa tilted her head back, meeting Cloud's eyes, eyes full of sorrow and hurt, and regret.

"Cloud..." she whispered, "He did it again."

She didn't have to point out the gaping hole in the kimono over her collarbone, where the sword had sliced over the top of her skin.

"I know, Tifa. I know, I'm sorry. I won't let him, again."

He brought her into his arms, folding her up securely where she still cried.

She didn't question how he seemed to know who she was talking about, and what he had done. She felt no need to. She could see it in his eyes, though, that he already knew what had happened, that somehow he had found out that she'd been talking to Sephiroth.

He seemed to know that much.

"I'm so sorry..." her voice was long, strange sounding through her sobs, "I should've told you. I should've ran from him...not you..."

"No...Tifa..."

"No!" she pushed off of him, tears still fresh on her face, "You listen to _me_. I found him...or...or he found me, I don't know!" she sighed, rubbing her hand across her eyes, "All I know is that blade felt as real to me three years ago, as it did when he nearly gutted me at the reactor. All I know is that he's suppose to be dead, and dead people can't stab you. He did."

"Tifa...why didn't you stay?"

"I was afraid, Cloud. I was so scared, that if...that if I went to you or anyone he'd kill them. He had to finish his job. That's what he told me. I...I was the first one to survive one of his blows, and he had to kill me first. I thought, that if I stayed alive, and ran away...I'd be protecting you, because he'd never try to kill you. He had to kill me first."

Cloud swallowed, remaining calm, "Then why is he back? Why can he hurt you?"

Tifa shook her head desperately, "He never left. He can hurt me now...because you're here...because, because I've stopped forgetting how to feel. He could only hurt me when I had any weaknesses. I...he can't hurt me unless there's someone there to suffer because of it. Just killing me isn't good enough. Someone's got to hurt over it," she paused, feeling the tears rising again, "I'm so sorry Cloud..." she collapsed up against his body.

"No, Tifa. Don't be sorry, I understand. I do," he said softly into her hair as she relaxed up against his body.

"What're we going to do, Cloud?" she whispered.

He stroked her hair softly, "I don't know."

He didn't know how long they sat like that on the empty stage, in that empty room, in that empty amusement park. All he knew, was that when they finally found them, they were carrying the mangled, bloody body of a small child.

_xxx_

"She reminded me of Aerith," Cloud had said, as they stood over the fresh grave, "I think...I think that's what I loved the most about her. I think, that's why I liked to talk to her."

He felt Tifa nod into his shoulder, "I know what you mean."

"Aerith...seemed...innocent."

"I bet it had something to do with the dress," Tifa mumbled.

Cloud almost smirked, but his eyes landed on the newly erected gravestone, and he found himself sober again, "But she knew more than all of us, didn't she?"

"She did," Tifa stated.

"I think...Raine knew she was going to die. Like Aerith knew. I think...she wanted to give him a chance to see what love felt like."

She pushed off him, her hand trailing behind her as he refused to let go. She left her hand loosely clasped in his own, their fingers twining together as she stared down at the grave.

She dropped the fragile, white lily on to the grave, "I think...I think in some way, Raine was Aerith."

_xxx_

They had found the body in the dirt of the employee paths, leaned up against the wall of one of the service buildings. The person that found her thought she'd been sleeping, her head lolled off to the side, a peaceful smile on her face. That was, however, until they got close enough to see the dark stains on her shirt where the blood had seeped through. She had been impaled by a sword, that's what they had said.

_xxx_

"I'd rather have any ghost than his," Tifa whispered that night, sitting curled up on her bed.

Cloud looked up from his side of the tent, where he was straightening his bed out, "Tifa?"

"I'd rather of had Aerith's ghost. I'd have Papa's...or, I'd take every soul that died in Meteor, and every soul that died when the plate dropped than have him. I'd take that guilt, I'd live with that," she buried her face in her knees, "I can't have the guilt of Raine's death though, and his ghost. I can't have that. I can't do that."

"Tifa," Cloud moved across the floor, "You can't blame yourself."

"Yes I can. You said it yourself, I was putting her life in danger, and now she's dead," her voice was muffled in her knees.

Cloud slowly moved on to the bed, putting one knee down, cautious, "Tifa...I was worried. I was angry, not at you, though. I was angry at him. Understand that much, you didn't stab her, he did. Raine knew what she was doing, just like Aerith did."

Tifa's tears were soft, and she didn't look up, "That doesn't make it right. That doesn't make it fair."

"You're right, it doesn't," second knee down, a foot away, "It doesn't change the fact she died. I think...she wasn't ever alive."

He saw Tifa's head lift slightly, still not enough to see her face though.

"She was Aerith. You were right. I think...she was here to help us, don't you?"

"Why would we need help?" Tifa asked, raising her head a little more.

"Because we weren't together," he moved softly across the bed, not touching her yet.

"We can't be together, though. You're just trying to justify it. Cloud, I am going to die."

"No," he shook his head firmly, "I won't let you."

She raised her eyes at last, to meet his, "You can't change what's going to happen to me. Aerith knew she was going to die, you say Raine did...and so do I."

"No," his voice was strained, forced through clenched teeth, trying to control an emotion he couldn't hold in.

"If you can accept that they knew what they were doing, that they knew they were going to die, why not me?" she asked, lowering her eyes again.

"Because you've kept it from happening, Teef, for three years," his hand hesitant to touch her arm.

"But that was before you were here. That was before Raine died. And that's right, isn't it, according to you. He couldn't kill me now...because he probably figured out that Raine was Aerith. He probably found it out, so he had to kill her first. She died before me, she had to die before me again."

"But Aerith didn't try to love Sephiroth," he said, desperate to end talk of whose going to die, and when, desperate to prove her wrong.

"You're wrong," she mumbled, "Aerith loved everyone. She even loved the demons. Someone has to. That's why she was perfect, more perfect than him. That's why she was good, she felt everything, for everyone...and he, he felt nothing, for everyone. That's what made him evil. That's what made him imperfect, and her perfect."

"Tifa-

"When I die...I want you to live."

"Tifa stop-

"Maybe...maybe I can kill him when he kills me..."

"Tifa stop it!"

She started at his voice, at how he yelled, how he gripped her arms in his hands, "Why?" she whispered. "You need to hear, because it's going to happen. You have to be prepared. There's no stopping it."

"I have to stop it, Tifa. I have to try."

"It's foolish...there's no point-

"There is a point, Tifa...because I still love you and I'm not ready to give up."

The words caught her off guard, and her heart skipped a beat.

She blinked back tears again, "How can you still love me, after everything I've done? After leaving you alone...how can you love me?"

She felt all her blood rush to her face when his fingers graced her jaw line, his breath hot on her neck, "Because you did it for me. You did it for all of us. You said it yourself, he couldn't move on, not until..." he paused to swallow, "Until you were gone. So I have to try. And...it doesn't matter, if you would've left just because...even if I tried, I could _never_ stop loving you, Tifa Lockhart."

"You have to try," she whispered, "You have to try and stop loving me, so when I die...it won't hurt."

"No," he whispered, his nose brushing hers softly as he turned his head, his hands finding her waist delicately, "I don't care if I die, or if you die. I won't stop loving you."

It was a timid kiss, a desperate acquaintance of a kiss, to remind them. It rang with nostalgia, their lips pressed together almost hesitantly. There was a hint of familiarness to it, and she remembered those nights spent laying his arms.

If only Sephiroth would've let them live. If only he could've died and then be done with it. But no, that was too good for them, to live together while he died, his dreams, his future shattered. He would always be bitter, even more angry towards them for stopping him. If he couldn't kill the world, he'd at least kill them, one by one, picking them off slowly, but surely.

He just had to get past this first obstacle, an obstacle he never thought would've been so difficult.

_No,_ her mind scolded her, Cloud's lips pressed even harder against her own, _not now, not him, not now. He won't taint this moment._

And he didn't.

Maybe it had been mercy of Sephiroth ignoring them, for one night. Or maybe it hadn't. Maybe it'd been luck. Maybe he'd been satisfied by killing Raine. He wasn't there though, and he wasn't coming, so she grappled desperately at Cloud's arms, finding holds in the sleeves of his shirt. She pulled him deeper, farther down, and a timid kiss turned to a demanding one.

She couldn't believe she had forgotten this, this feeling, this passion, this love. Everything, it all came rushing back towards her and slammed into her mind, into her chest. It made her gasp against his mouth, as the memories hit and she felt that cool hand running across her stomach, light feather-brushes that he called fingers.

This wasn't suppose to happen. This wasn't how it was suppose to go. She was suppose to have forgotten him, she was suppose to have been satisfied with her life, content with the knowledge that she was protecting him.

She was suppose to, but she wasn't.

And it all came crashing down in one moment, some sort of understanding as Cloud forced her back onto the bed, beneath him, crushing his mouth against her own, three years of bottled up feelings spilling out between them.

And he whispered words softly in her ear, in a voice that wasn't suppose to be heard as she breathed into his neck. And his eyes lingered over curves that weren't suppose to be seen again as he tugged away her clothing. He ran his hands along the smooth, hard surface of her skin, planting delicate kisses along soft scars, touching skin that wasn't meant to be touched.

And thoughts bombarded her, thoughts of how she wanted him to stay with her, even though those had been long discarded. She thought of how she needed him in every way, shape and form, of how she was just suppose to be satisfied without him. Most of all, she thought of how she loved him, and how that was supposed to be regretted, because that's what put her in danger, him in danger.

These thoughts were suppose to be gone, but they weren't.

Legs tangled, sheets twisted, lips bruised, fingers clutched. This is everything there was, and everything there wasn't. He was filled to the brim, but he was empty, because he was still asking for more, still wanting for more, still demanding more. And there was a moment when their fingertips press together, and press into each other. A moment when he trailed his hand up her arm, goose bumps rising in his wake. A moment when she arched, his hand pressed against the curve of her back, and he folded, her nails biting into his skin.

A moment when he's complete and she's whole; a moment when there's hair in hands, and hands in hair, teeth knocking, eye lashes brushing, noses bumping, and a soft growl.

A smooth touch, a warm palm, flat stomach, eyes locked, closed, open, there, everywhere, and he's here, and she's here. And she discovers, after all that's happened, after all that will happen, that this is the only thing that matters. Her, him; it's different, and it's the same; it's peaceful, and yet there's a war between them; there's love and there's hate, there's friends and there's enemies; it's a mix, a contradiction, a way to say 'I don't need that' but realize you do. Two halves of a whole, a whole that involves skin and blood, heat and passion, love and lust, easy and hard, trust and faith, physical and mental.

And they have it all, in that one moment, as his fingers brushed away her hair, and she looked into his eyes. Leaning down into her, his face buried in her neck, her hands splayed across his back, feeling the rippling of his spine, spilling words out that had been stopped up for ages upon ages.

"_I love you."_

**A/N: **I'll bump the rating if you guys think it's necessariy. I didn't think it was that bad, but I really didn't feel like bumping the rating for one chapter. **kikyo-hime** I changed the summary just for you, think it's better?


	8. After The Storm

After the Storm

She was so confused when she woke up. It'd been so long since she'd woken up with someone in her bed, let alone completely naked. Three years, to be precise.

She'd woken on her back, Cloud's arm thrown across her, his face buried in her neck, his legs twisted with her own. He was holding her possessively, almost desperate. Even in his sleep, he didn't want to let go, and she didn't want to move. There was this pleasant, warm feeling in her chest, and she breathed out a sigh, and _smiled_. Not the little pressed lip up turn of her mouth, but a smile she use to try and wear every day.

And Cloud's breath on her neck was only serving her to smile more, and when she heard the little snores he made, she laughed out loud. She remembered those snores, and she remembered this. Waking up before him in his arms, she remembered that; just to lay there and think of how surreal the moment was. She ran her fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft it was, how smooth it was. She remembered trying to not think sappy, romantic thoughts, and she stopped herself just in time again.

She leaned forward a bit, planting a kiss on Cloud's arm, smiling against the muscle as it rippled beneath his skin. He shifted dragging himself up onto his right arm, not even opening his eyes and she giggled again as he landed on top of her, pressing down on her body.

She remembered this, too; how good he was at playing possum. He pressed his lips against hers, framing her face with his hands delicately, catching strands of her hair in between his fingers.

She smiled again, and giggled up against his lips, "Your breath stinks."

He groaned, rolling off of her, before falling onto the floor. She rolled over, peering over the edge of the bed, watching him lay on the ground.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked, grinning large again.

She blushed though, when no answer came, and he merely stared up at her. She blinked, averting her eyes, and looked back at him. Still, he stared at her with a strange expression, studying her almost, a hint of disbelief around the corner of his eyes.

She sighed in exasperation, "_What_?" and he grinned, only serving to annoy her more, "What, Cloud? Are you teasing me again?" she grinned again, smiling large.

He tilted his head as she did that, studying her, a sort of weightlessness to her body language, not hampered down or constrained. He sat up quickly, pressing his lips against hers, snaking a hand around against the back of her head.

He broke the kiss lingering at her lips, "There...there's my Tifa," he stood, pressing his lips against hers, slowly crawling back onto the bed, "I missed her so much."

He kissed her neck as she fell back onto the pillows, before turning to kiss her mouth again, hungry and demanding.

"Mmph...breath..." Tifa mumbled between each break, "Bad...breath very ba-mmph. _Cloud_. Ugh, stinky."

And she lost herself in him again.

_xxx_

She dreamed. She couldn't remember the last time she dreamed. Aerith was there, laughing at something Tifa was telling her as they sat in a field of wild flowers. Tifa recognized it, she couldn't place it though. It had happened, at some point and time in their travels, when they needed a break from smelly and crude men; Yuffie still hung around them, though.

Aerith was braiding the stems of daisies together, making a bracelet. The ground was already littered with necklaces, bracelets, and crowns of flowers and ivy, a crown of yellow lilies for Aerith. Tifa wore her own crown of tulips, posing with her head tilted to the side, looking cute and innocent. Aerith burst into laughter, falling over on her side, sending puffs of pollen and pedals into the air, disappearing behind the tall grass. Tifa followed, falling backwards, crushing the grass and flowers beneath her back. Laughter bubbled up from her stomach, calming it though, as she stared up at a clear, vibrant blue sky, framed with lilies, roses, tulips, and daises. Aerith was still laughing somewhere in the sea of grass and flowers. Tifa sat up, as she heard Aerith call her name.

She glanced towards the spot where Aerith had disappeared in the flowers, but she wasn't there.

"_Aerith?"_ she moved slowly, on her knees, parting grass and blossoms, leaves and stems, with her hands.

The imprint where Aerith had been was still there, and Tifa frowned, her hand brushing over the broken stems. She lifted her eyes above the grass just in time to see a brown head disappear beneath in the waves of grass, the braid slipping down in an arc. Tifa grinned, crawling through the grass towards where she had seen Aerith's head.

She moved forward, ignoring a couple thorns that stuck to her hands and knees, finally parting the grass before a distorted figure.

"_I'm so sorry, Tifa," _Aerith said from behind the grass.

Tifa frowned, perplexed, before reaching out, and pushing away the last barrier,_"Found– _

Tifa stopped, cut off by shock. Who sat before her was not Aerith, despite the fact she had large, green eyes; a brown braid tied off with a pink ribbon. She was tiny, little hands and thin wrists, dirt smudged across her cheek, wearing that crazy costume her mother had made for her.

"_R-Ra-_

Raine held up her hand, placing her tiny fingers across Tifa's lips, a solemn look on her face, _"Shh," _she whispered,_ "He'll hear you."_

Tifa didn't say anything but tilted her head to the side in question, but Raine shook her head 'no' firmly. She motioned with her right hand quickly, turning to crawl through the grass again. Tifa followed her, head down as they maneuvered blindly beneath the cover. The sun disappeared, and Tifa glanced up for a moment, storm clouds brewing across the horizon. She stared in disbelief. It had been so clear just a moment ago.

Raine's tiny hand clasped down on Tifa's arm, pulling her along through the grass, moving faster by the second as tiny pricks of rain began to slap Tifa's back. She winced as it turned to hail, pelting the flowers around her, but still, Raine crawled through the canopy of grass and flowers that was growing thinner by the minute.

Tifa glanced down at Raine's arm, and her own, puzzlement crossing her features. She was about to stop, but they had reached a cliff wall, a tiny crevice in it. Raine just barely managed to squeeze through, and Tifa didn't hesitate to follow, but still didn't know how she fit.

Inside the cave, it was dark, dripping wet as the hail slammed into the field beside them. Tifa watched with a fascination, before turning to look back at Raine. Raine blew on her hands, fire erupting to sit in her palms.

"_Raine?"_

She looked up, grinning wide. Tifa noticed for the first time the necklace of yellow lilies around her neck. Tifa studied it, feeling for her crown of tulips. It was gone.

"_Raine, what's going on?"_

"_I'm so sorry, Tifa. I was so happy for you. I had to give you as much as I could."_

Tifa froze, her eyes going wide. It wasn't Raine's voice she spoke with, it was Aerith's. And that wasn't a necklace, it was a crown. Tifa reached down, feeling the crown of tulips around her neck. She looked at her body, tiny and childish. She met Raine-Aerith's eyes, upset.

"_Where are we?"_

"_Tifa, please," _Aerith's voice was pleading, hurt, and it matched the look on Raine's face.

It disturbed Tifa, and she shook her head quickly, trying to clear her mind, _"No, no. Cloud wasn't right–_

"_No!" _Raine stood quickly, reaching out and grabbing one of Tifa's hands.

Tifa stared at the fiery hand grasping her own, feeling no pain.

"_Quickly!" _Raine took of f down the cavern, the storm raging even harder in the back ground.

Tifa allowed herself to be pulled along behind Raine, glancing over her shoulder once. There was a figure kneeling and stooping to walk through the opening. She narrowed her eyes; she hadn't thought it had been that big.

Raine tugged sharply on her arm again, and Tifa turned around as they turned a bend.

Aerith's voice was breathless as she spoke, _"If he finds you here, you're done for. You have to trust me, Tifa. You wouldn't stand a chance here, but there...just don't say his name. Don't even think it."_

Tifa didn't question it, just moved along behind Raine as quick as her tiny legs would take her. They reached the end of the cavern, where it opened up much larger. Tifa gasped against the wind, and hail, staring at the surrounding town.

"_It's...it's..."_

"_Shh," _Aerith's voice scolded her again.

The well was still there, sitting in the center of the town square. Raine glanced up at the sky once, the hail and rain harsh, before shaking her head, the fire long gone from her hands.

She spoke in a soft voice, gazing up at the sky again,_"Everyone has something...doesn't matter who...it just drives them. Even the demons. No one will get **anywhere** without that. I mean, if you don't have it, what's there to push you? To drive you? That's what I think you need to fight. You need something, and I know I'm not a fighter, but I'm trying to help you all I can. So, if you have something, then doesn't your enemy then too, right? So you just got to take care of that, and then he'll have nothing to fight for," _Raine glanced over her shoulder at Tifa, _"What do you fight for? What does he fight for? What does the demon have that could possibly tie him here?"_

"_What?" _Tifa asked, and Raine favored her with a small smile.

She thrust her free hand into the sky, sunlight bursting through the storm clouds, cutting through in a circle, spreading out, dispelling the surrounding storm. Tifa stared up in wonder at the calm sky, tiny clouds here and there, but not enough to cause the light rain that still drizzled down on her. Sunshine and Rain.

Raine was moving again, though, pulling on Tifa's hand, _"Quickly! He knows where we are now!"_

Once again Tifa followed her blindly, Raine pulling her towards the well. Tifa looked up at it apprehensively, but Raine began to climb it almost immediately. Tifa followed. She clambered onto the top, only a second behind Raine. Raine's face was grim, focusing on something distant in the sky. There were storm clouds just past the mountain, edging their way closer and closer to Nibelhiem.

Raine turned to Tifa, a look in her eyes, fear and determination, _"I can't hold him off for much longer."_

"_What's happening? Raine, what's going on?"_

Raine reached out, grasping Tifa's hands with her own, tears billowed up in Raine's eyes as she whispered with Aerith's voice, _"I'm so sorry, Tifa. It was the best I could do. I tried to give you all the time I possibly could. Forgive me for not having more," _Raine bowed her head.

"_What are you talking about? Forgive you of what?"_

Raine winced suddenly, thunder clapping in the distance a second later, the light, cloudless rain still pattering around them.

Tifa felt tears building in her own eyes, though she wasn't sure why, _"Aerith, please, tell me."_

She stared back at Tifa, _"I'm sorry Tifa. You can do it, though. You're the only one, just trust me," _she glanced quickly over her shoulder, the storm clouds speeding towards their destination. She held out a hand towards them, the clouds wavering, slowing, before turning her attention back to Tifa. _"It isn't over yet, Tifa. Just remember that, if you remember anything. It isn't over."_

"_Aerith? Please, don't...don't do this to me," _what was she talking about?

"_You're the only one, Tifa," _she reached out suddenly, pushing back on both of Tifa's shoulders.

"_Hurry, Tifa. I can't hold him forever. Just get there, and it'll be done."_

Tifa fell back, tipping over the lip of the well, falling backwards towards the water. She looked up into the green eyes staring back, the storm clouds almost closing over the well, circling angrily around the one patch of defiant, calm sky.

"_I gave you as much as I could, Tifa. I'm so sorry, please. Just...go. You'll be safe, here, though, for a bit longer."_

Tifa hit the water as the clouds above her closed over the well; it splashed against her, choking on her lungs, ice cold on her skin and she screamed.

_xxx_

Tifa jolted awake, covered in a cold sweat. One of her blankets was draped lightly over her body, and the sun's rays were just disappearing for the night. Her breath was heavy, her chest rising quickly and falling.

_It isn't over, yet._

A voice whispered in her ear, and she flinched slightly. It wasn't his voice, though.

Where was Cloud? She twisted, looking around the room. He had probably gone to shower. She had to go, that's all she knew. She had to hurry. But where? Why?

She sighed, her eyes scanning the room, spying his cell phone on top of one of her book piles. She stood, moving across the room quickly, scrolling through the familiar numbers and names before pressing send. The phone rang three times before it was answered.

"'T-fuck you want?"

"Cid?"

Heavy breathing, "...Tifa...?"

_xxx_

Cloud walked into the tent, rubbing the back of his head with a towel. He moved through the empty tent, looking for any sign of Tifa. He shrugged when he didn't see her in the bed, moving towards his things. He fished around in a couple of his pants pockets, searching for his phone. He groaned when he couldn't find it, pressing his fingers to his temples, as he tried to remember where he left it last. He stood like that for a minute, before snapping his fingers and moving across towards Tifa's books. He skimmed over the tops of them before groaning again, casting his eyes around the room once more.

It was on the bed, resting on Tifa's pillow, and he moved across to it quickly. He picked up, and for some reason moved to check the recent calls. There was already one to Cid, and he was getting ready to call him. Cloud frowned, swallowed, before pressing send.

It was three rings before he answered.

"What?"

"Cid."

"Yeah, Cloud?"

"Did I call you?"

"Um, well...not officially."

Cloud wrinkled his forehead, "What?"

"Tifa called, with you–

"Tifa called you?"

"Yeah," Cid sounded surprised, "She said you were going to meet her in Midgar."

"M-Midgar?"

"Yeah, that's where I took her. Don't cha remember, ass?"

Cloud froze, and he glanced around the room, running over to her vanity. Third drawer down, in the very back. There were no fighting gloves.

"Cloud?"

He stood there for a moment, before moving to where she kept her shoes. Her steel-toed boots were gone.

"Cloud!"

Her suspenders weren't hanging on the dresser knob. Her hair tie wasn't around her lamp on her vanity.

"Dammit Cloud! What the fuck is goin on?"

Cloud moved the phone back up to his ear, slowly, "How fast can you get here, Cid?"

"Fuck me."

**A/N:** Okay, so there's one chapter left...and after that, the epilogue. I hope you guys have enjoyed so far, and I'm glad you liked the last chappie! Thanks for all the reviews. I love you!


	9. Sunshine And Rain

Sunshine And Rain

He ran, heart pounding in his chest, lungs straining for air as he tore himself through the deserted, ruined streets of the once proud city. There was no telling where exactly in the ruins Tifa was located. Cid had dropped him off near the remains of sector five, opting to fly around looking for the two. Cloud was headed up, though, he had an idea where they might be.

Of course this would make sense, this was where it all began, so, should it not end here? Or had it began in Nebelheim? He would never know; it had begun before him, that was all he knew.

Still, these were not the thoughts he wished for. He had to find Tifa; he knew they had come here, to finish what they had started.

Cloud raced past the church, finding his way towards the web-work of iron of the column that still held up the shattered plate. He flung himself onto the iron bars with desperation, setting out a quick pace as he climbed.

He couldn't be late, not this time. He had to get there in time, or else the price to pay would be to great. He couldn't pay that price.

_xxx_

Tifa dodged another slash, flipping backwards. It wasn't fair that she had to fight like this, a man with a six-foot wingspan with that sword, and she with nothing but her fists and feet. She just needed to get in close enough to do some damage.

"Come now, Ms. Lockhart. You aren't giving up already, are you?" his cool voice taunted her, but she restrained her anger.

She'd learned all about burying her emotions these past three years. Balling her hands up into fist, she moved into a defensive stance.

"This, again? It didn't work the first time, Ms. Lockhart. What makes you think it'll work this time?"

Tifa didn't reply as she set her eyes in a determined gaze, narrowing them over lowered eyebrows. Sephiroth chuckled lightly, relaxed almost, before suddenly darting forward. Tifa was ready though, dodging quickly, but staying within the danger zone. She got beneath, grabbing his sword arm before jabbing him in the chest with her elbow.

She had forgotten, though. This was Sephiroth, and he wouldn't be taken down so easily, and she was tired, worn from the fighting that had been taking place since dawn. Did ghosts get tired?

With just a flick of the wrist it seemed he flung her off his arm with such a force she went flying back. She let out a muted grunt when she landed up against a wall behind her, neck snapping back, slamming her head against the wall; her back seared with pain and she grimaced.

She blinked, and then he was there, and she shrieked as Masamune pierced her hand straight through her palm to the metal ground. Her breath came quick as the pain washed over her in waves, receding and crashing back down on her. She opened her eyes to find her vision hazy, Sephiroth kneeling down to her level, watching her with an even gaze, one hand still resting on Masamune's hilt.

She gritted her teeth, her eyes roaming over towards her hand, impaled on the ground.

"Oops," Sephiroth sighed, almost bored, "I thought you would've put up a better fight than this, Ms. Lockhart. After all, did you not find your feelings again? Shouldn't that drive you?" he mocked.

"_Everyone has something...doesn't matter who...it just drives them."_

Tifa blinked, the voice catching her off guard. She glared up at him, and he smirked, "I guess it would be fair if I fought with my fists. But, that isn't the point here, is it, Ms. Lockhart?"

Tifa didn't reply, instead she lashed out with her legs. Sephiroth anticipated it though, jumping back, pulling Masamune from her hand.

Tifa stumbled to her feet slowly, holding her throbbing right arm, and she grimaced.

"Silence, is that all I get for this, after all this time, Ms. Lockhart? I'm disappointed, really," he smirked again, moving into an offensive stance, "Or would you prefer Ms. Strife?"

She clenched her right hand through the pain.

"_No one will get __**anywhere**__ without that. I mean, if you don't have it, what's there to push you? To drive you? That's what I think you need to fight. You need something."_

Sephiroth darted forward, and Tifa blocked and kicked and lashed out. But then he was there, and so was Masamune, piercing her, and she gasped, her breath frozen in her lungs as she looked down.

Straight through her chest, and it burned and seared so badly she wanted to cry, but she wouldn't let this madman see her like that. She had to be strong. She was the only one who could end this; something told her that.

"Game over, Ms. Lockhart."

"_So does your enemy then, right? So you just got to take care of that, and then he'll have nothing to fight for."_

"No," she sputtered, blood dotting her lips.

"Excuse me?"

"_What does the demon have that could possibly tie him here?_"

"No," she repeated, clenching her right fist again, "Never."

Sephiroth's eyes widened only a fraction as a steady white light began to emit from Tifa's, bloodied and mangled right hand. He went to jump back, release Masamune, but Tifa's left hand shot out, gripping the blade tightly. It cut through her glove, blood running like a stream, but she ignored it. She clenched her right fist, a steady light pulsing around it, heat radiating off in waves, glowing with a strange aura.

Sephiroth cocked his head to the side, "Do you intend to kill me with that?" he asked calmly.

"No," she replied just as calmly, bring her glowing fist back, preparing to strike.

_xxx_

He didn't know how he made it up to the top of the plate, and he didn't even feel tired. When he saw them though, his breath caught in his throat, exhaustion suddenly heavy on his back, because there was Tifa, impaled on Sephiroth's blade.

"No," he breathed, forcing his legs to move again.

He couldn't have come this far, just to see her die by his hands. It couldn't have been for that, so he pushed on; he wouldn't let it be.

He was only a hundred yards off when he saw the dim glow emit from Tifa's hand, glowing strange white in comparison to the bright, early-morning sun. Still he ran towards the two figures facing each other, connected by the strange, silver line, gleaming wickedly at its accomplished deed.

She wasn't dead yet, though, he told himself, and he thrived off that thought, nearly reaching them.

That was when Tifa brought her fist back, crashing it into the side of her target. There was a flash of bright, blinding light, and a rush of heat as her fist connected with her mark, sending splatters of blood from her hand all around.

As the light dimmed, Cloud blinked rapidly, taking in the sight before him. It was almost slow motion as the legendary blade shattered beneath the impact, glinting in the sunlight as the shards danced through the air.

All that was left was the stunned swordsman, holding the hilt of his precious sword, and the dying fighter, blood flowing freely from her wounds, a long piece of the blade still embedded in her chest.

"No more. You'll...kill no more...no one else. Not Raine, or Aerith. No one," she struggled with her words through heavy breath.

Sephiroth's eyes were wide, and anger seemed to radiate off of him, "You think this will stop me? If anything I'll only go on stronger," he spat, tossing the hilt of the broken sword, "I'll kill them all with my bare hands!"

"It will...stop you. You don't have anything...left...to tie you here. That sword...was the only thing left. You can die now. Nothing else," she breathed through chopped sentences.

"No," Sephiroth stated, but already he was fading, as a ghost was meant to.

"...should...'ve just stayed...in your grave, where you belonged, demon," Tifa rasped, "Quick as you come...you're gone as well. It started here, it'll end here."

"No," but his voice was faint as his body.

He charged forward, spurring Cloud to finally move, but he couldn't get there in time. Sephiroth reached out, wrapping his hands around the throat of Tifa, squeezing hard.

Her breath only caught for a moment, before returning to its haggard state. Sephiroth's fingers emerged from either side of her neck, and he gaped.

"Too late," Tifa laughed, her blood bubbling up her throat, and she coughed, blood dribbling down her chin.

And he was gone. Just as quick as that, he was gone, fading with morning rays of the sun, into whatever world was waiting for him.

Tifa's knees hit the ground as the rain started, soft pattering on the ground, almost like a melody to her ears. Aerith was crying for her, the rain falling from a cloudless sky. Tifa could feel her in the rain, numbing the pain that ached in her chest and hand.

"Tifa," it was such a soft whisper, she doubted it for a moment.

She thought Aerith was talking to her too, through the rain, but then she felt him against her side, wrapping his arms securely around her.

"Cloud," she breathed as he lowered her into his arms.

"I'm late," she heard him croak, and she laughed.

"No, no you're...you're right on time."

She stared up at the sky, rain soaking her face and clothes and hair, washing away the blood, the sun reflected in each drop, in each metal shard scattering the ground.

At least she had these last images to pass with, as her eyes glazed over, a small smile on her face. She let herself think those little romantic thoughts she figured too sappy to voice or say, but since she was dying, she decided she'd die with those, and not care if they were sappy.

He moved into her vision, cupping her face gently, and her eyes took him in.

Windblown straw, capped with all buttercups and lilies in the spring, the color of sunshine. Smooth, even, olive skin he lived in, stretched and pulled, soft scars painted white and callous patches around the edges of his thumbs; but it's right, right for him, suiting him. Ginger tainting his nose in small flecks just beneath his eyes. Oh his eyes, his glorious eyes framed with light lashes that taunted her.

Colors stacked, compressed together, orbiting around the black globe in the center, mako rain bleeding into blue glass, radiating outwards in starched, straight lines. Each line a story, a kill or injury, a memory or dream. It was like falling into the sky when she looked in his eyes, still trying to figure out whether or not they were empty or deep or both in some strange mix.

She couldn't tear her eyes away, and she didn't want to. This was what she would have, at least death would grant her this much.

And he was babbling words she couldn't pick up, because he was talking too fast, and she couldn't figure out if that was rain or tears running down his cheeks.

"Hey," her voice as soft as the moonlight, still cutting him off, "I love you, okay?"

And that was how she died, falling into the ocean of sky in his eyes, wisdom and pain beyond his years, but yet a naive, innocent child on the inside, crying out for everyone he's ever lost, but not realizing who he had gained.

That was what he was, who she loved, all at once, sunshine and rain.

Her heaven would be blue.

**A/N: **Stick around please! There will be an epilogue...one more little thing that'll complete this story. Now that's out of the way...I'm sure some of you sensed the forbading attitude of Aerith in the dream...and that this would be rather tragic (Well duh, tragedy) HOWEVER I was shocked by the number of people who wanted Cloud to kick Sephiroth's butt...Tifa is the buttkicker...okay? Cloud's the buttslasher. Wow, that sounds terribly wrong. I want to be able to write a story with flowery speech, but I'm not that good yet (hensce Tifa's sappy thoughts) I LOVE you all for the reviews, and I'll respond teh final chappy, though I did take a break from studyin to post this (Good thing it was already written up) So, stick around for the epilogue, and I hope you aren't too sad (I've got an even _more_ tragic story in the works) later loves


	10. Epilogue

**A/N:** I have an excuse, I swear. This was written up on the computer w/o internet (Back when I thought it was going to be hooked up) so, I had to had write this, then retype it because apparently that computer has no freaking floppy drive! Ah well...enjoy!

Two Years Later

It was sunset when the man arrived at the small house on the hill. Barret had been fixing supper, soft girlish laughter coming from the living room.

"Ya'll better not be watching that trash again," he said gruffly, stirring the boiling noodles.

It sort of clicked in him, a bit of apprehension suddenly lacing his mind. He glanced up, looking out the window in the door, spotting the familiar silhouette on the horizon.

He sighed, swiping his thumb across his nose, "Mar! Ya'll go outside and play, alright?"

"Okay, Papa," his daughter called, a door slamming a moment later.

Barret reached over the stove, clicking it off before moving to stand at the door. The man didn't knock, merely opened it, studying Barret for a moment.

"Nice outfit," the man stated with a monotone voice.

Barret fumed, fury lacing his eyes as he wrenched the yellow apron off, "Marlene made it," a mumbled excuse.

The man grunted in response, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Barret followed suit, his arms crossed as he sat down.

"What brings you here, Cloud?"

"Do you really need to ask?" he mumbled, blue eyes finding a child's drawing on the fridge.

Barret tapped a pack of cigarettes on the table, handing one over to Cloud as he pulled out one for himself, "I'm going to hate the day she starts calling me Papa…"

Cloud lit his cigarette quickly, "Marlene know you smoke in the house?"

"Marlene barely knows I smoke."

Cloud grunted in response, staring at the drawing again. A stick house, gray, puffy circles coming from a chimney. There's three figures.

"Did you hear me, Cloud?" Barret asked, "I said—

"I heard you," Cloud stated.

They're holding hands. A large, marshmallow man, a pink stick figure, and a smaller red one.

Barret sighed, taking another drag on the cigarette, "I won't hesitate to take her as my own, you know that…but I don't want to. I don't need another reminder of who I've lost."

Cloud's blank eyes remained staring at the drawing on the fridge.

"You…" Barret said, slowly standing, "You got lucky," he jabbed a finger at him, "You have got blood and flesh out there, waiting on you. See that girl in the window? She's yours. She is every bit of you as she is Ti—

"Barret—

"No, listen to me. Look at her hair, her face, her smile. You're still lost over Tifa when she's sitting right out there?" he asked incredulously, pulling the drawing free.

"You said you didn't want a reminder of who you lost…well, what about me, Barret? What about who I lost?"

Barret dropped the drawing on the table, sliding a hand over his eyes, "Anyone else, Cloud…anyone else would've embraced that child…yet you push her away. Marlene, she's not even mine, okay? You know how much it hurts to say that? But it's true! You're lucky, Cloud…you've got a child that's your own flesh…your own blood, and your wife's…understand how lucky you are?"

Cloud tipped his head away, his gaze running from the drawing.

"Already, you hear? At the age of six she broods as much as you, but she loves as much as her mother," he stared at the drawing, "And if you'd giver the chance, I know she'd love you as much as her mother did…and I know you'd love her as much as you loved her mother."

Cloud stared as well, studying the sloppy handwriting that read 'Erica'.

"It's not my job to tell her what happened to her mother…that's yours. You said you'd stick around till then, well, it isn't my job to explain what happened to her deadbeat father, either. That-that he went off and left her behind because he couldn't handle it."

Cloud slowly picked up the drawing, studying it, the barest hint of feeling behind his blue orbs.

Barret sighed, "Would Tifa want you to do this?"

"Tifa didn't even get to see her first birthday…"

Barret swallowed, "Cloud, don't deny her another parent when fate has already denied her one."

The door banged open loudly, and Cloud released the drawing, letting it fall lifelessly on the table.

"Daddy!" there was a girlish squeal, as a tiny body flung itself into Cloud's lap.

Barret watched with interest as the man melted beneath the gaze of his daughter's eyes, bright blue like her father's, hair long and as dark as her mother's.

"Daddy! What are you doing here?"

A faint smile played across Cloud's lips, as Marlene entered belatedly, "Don't tell me you forgot already, pipsqueak."

"That's not my name," she huffed, narrowing her eyes, "Barret calls Marlene princess, and I get stuck with pipsqueak. I don't think that's very fair."

Marlene tugged at her father's arm, the two disappearing from the room, unnoticed by the pair with matching eyes.

"So, how long you staying, daddy?" the little girl's eyes were wide, leaning towards her father.

"Don't know, Eri…how long would you like me to stay?"

Erica flung her arms around her father's neck, "For_ever_."

Cloud sighed, patting the girl on the back, "We'll see," he said, lowering her to the ground.

The girl stared up with hurt eyes, Cloud wincing slightly, before feigning a smile, "Hey, close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just close your—

"You aren't going to trick me, are you?"

"No," he said slowly, "I'm going to tell you why I'm here."

The girl frowned slightly, before closing her eyes. Cloud reached in to his shirt, pulling a long chain from around his neck over his head. He dropped it easily over his daughter's head, where the pendant thudded on her chest.

She opened her eyes, lifting the necklace up to inspect it.

"_Pretty_," she cooed at the ring; white gold with pearls.

"When you get older, you can wear it on your finger. Happy Birthday, Erica."

She grinned, smiling up at Cloud, "Thanks, daddy."

"You have to be careful with that, Erica, understand? I'm serious…it was…it was your mother's."

Erica's look changed to soft, confusion lacing her features, "Have you found momma yet?"

The words stung his heart, his eyes softening, eyebrows pinned back in pain, "No…not yet."

Erica fiddled with the ring, staring at it before a smile graced her face again, "You'll find her when she's ready to be found."

Cloud swallowed, patting the girl on the back, "Hey, I think Barret's almost down with supper…let's finish it up for him and eat."

Erica smiled big, "Okay, daddy."

_Xxx_

It was three in the morning when Barret walked out onto the porch. The sky was dotted with stars, tiny pinpoints on the inky expanse; there was no moon.

The only light offered was the small, orange glow radiating somewhere from the rocking chair to Barret's left. Barret raised his eyes, the familiar scent of cigarette smoke filling his nostrils. Barret moved slowly, barely catching the hint of Cloud's face in the dim glow of the smoldering cigarette.

"Leaving so soon?" Barret asked.

Barret caught the slightest movement of a shrug from Cloud as he took another drag.

"I don't want to be the one to explain to Erica why her Papa's gone so fast after her birthday."

"I'll be back," Cloud said, standing slowly.

Barret didn't stop him as he pushed by, Cloud's footsteps heavy on the wood.

"The question is when, Cloud…when…"

He received no answer.

_xxx_

The sky was golden when he reached his most hated and loved place in the world, the sun splitting the horizon only just. Flowers engulfed it, lilies and roses, tulips and daisies; ivy twisted up at her tombstone, spilling around the engravings, a waterfall of leaves.

He knelt before it, as he always did, still finding himself in a strange, macabre fascination at reading her name carved in the cold stone. It was a harsh reminder, a blow to the heart that his dearly beloved had passed, and passed without him.

_"Anyone else would've embraced that child…"_

Barret's words echoed in his ear, ringing of guilt as they always did. Tainted with bitterness and hate; he knew on some level that Barret blamed him for Tifa's death. He could've saved her; he could've been smarter, faster, stronger…anything to save her.

These thoughts had been running through his head so long ago, long ago when the planet was in danger, and not just its saviors. Long ago when a friend died, and another's death was remembered; these were the thoughts that plagued him. This time, however, there was no ruby-eyed angel to tell him it wasn't his fault. This time, there wasn't the familiar press of her palm on his shoulder, whispering that he couldn't have done anything, that _fate_ played out as it was meant to be.

_"…don't deny her another parent when fate has already denied her one."_

Fate, he practically spat the words now; scorned its existence. Fate, it seemed, had been determined to deny him happiness. Fate was determined to keep him alone.

_'You're so dramatic, you know?'_

It had switched, their roles. Once upon a time he'd been the one driving her crazy, and now, she was the one driving him mad. Mad with her voices, and her little snide comments. A ghost shouldn't be that snide.

She'd never been that, though…teasing to a certain extent, but never rude. He wondered if he made up her voice in his head. It comforted him to hear it, and the only time he ever heard it was when he messed up, when he was in need of a good scolding.

And he never needed a scolding more than now.

He sat down, crossing his legs, and bracing his hands on his knees, as if waiting for something. A sense of peace crept over his weary limbs, calming his mind, and relaxing the tense muscles in his shoulders.

Yet, for as much peace as he was in, he was restless…antsy almost, as if waiting for something to happen, like every other time…waiting for something to happen that would never happen.

The thought hit him like a kick to the gut, and his breath escaped his lungs in shock. He sat there for a moment more, staring at the gray stone that couldn't bring back Tifa…staring at the past two years of his life, devoted to the wrong thing. You can't be devoted to a corpse, but rather what was left behind.

He almost smirked, shaking his head lightly, scolding himself for taking so long to realize it. He had missed out on his daughter's life enough already searching for her long lost mother, and now he had found her…that chapter of his life was over.

He stood slowly, his limbs creaking, the sun high in the sky as he moved forward to kiss the tip of the headstone, like he used to kiss her forehead. As he brushed his pants and stood, he turned swiftly, a lily caught between his fingers.

"I have to go, it's someone's birthday," he studied the flower, "It's about time I went home."

He moved quickly, afraid to look back. On one level he knew he must move on, if not for the sake of himself, then for the sake of his friends, and his family…his daughter. On the other, he knew he wasn't ready to let go, and that he had some strange addiction to running away and never staying put. It was easier to run from his problems.

He paused at the bottom of the hill, studying his boots. There was no reason why he had to sever this completely; he just needed to be in control…he just needed to be there for everyone else. He nodded his head slightly before slowly turning to glance over his shoulder, a strong gust blowing against his face, the wind whistling a tune.

_"You'll find her when she's ready to be found."_

_xxx_

Barret had studied him with skepticism when he'd entered the door at six o'clock that evening, the yellowed apron tied once again around his waist. Marlene had looked at him with shock, and Erica had been openly surprised for all of two seconds before flinging herself across the kitchen into her father's ready arms.

"So, Cloud," Marlene had grinned, "Where did you go?"

Cloud had given a soft, small smile, before holding the lily out to Erica, "I had to get a flower for the birthday girl."

It was late that night, after Cloud had asked Barret if he could crash there for a while until he got his own place for himself and Erica, and after Cloud had tucked in his daughter that Barret had to ask.

They both sat on the porch, much as the night before. It was only eleven this time, though, and they both had their lips pressed around a cigarette, each relaxing in a rocking chair.

"What changed your mind, Cloud?" Barret's voice echoed in the quiet night.

Cloud stood slowly, "We should really quit," he said, flicking the cigarette out away from him.

He ground it beneath his toe, before moving towards the door.

"Cloud…"

"Do you think…" he glanced over his shoulder, "Do you think it's okay for a ghost to kick their own grave?"

_"What?_"

"I mean, if _he_ could come back, then surely she could…I mean, there's got to be more to tie her here than him…right?" Cloud replied.

Barret didn't reply. Instead, he watched Cloud as if he was afraid.

Cloud sighed, "Never mind, I'm going to bed."

"Uh…good night."

He still had that image in his mind as he slipped beneath the covers on the couch. His eyes closed, the picture forming perfectly…that transparent figure sitting on tthe headstone, her boots bouncing in time against her death date as she sang, hair blowing backwards…face turned towards the distance…but more importantly, the smile on her face.

The voices crossed, even though they were the same voice.

_'Took you long enough…you're selfish __**and**__ dramatic, I swear.'_

'_So meet me by the bridge,_

_Meet me by the lane…_

_When am I gonna see_

_That pretty face again._

_So meet me on the road…_

_Meet me where I said,_

_Blame it all upon_

_A rush of blood to the head.'_

**A/N: **Thank you all so much for the support on this story, especially to whoever nominated this for the Genesis Awards. The song, obviously, is A rush of blood to the head by Coldplay...it was the song that actually inspired this story, so I felt I should include some lyrics somewhere. I hope you all understand the ending, that Tifa wouldn't show herself to Cloud until he got over her, and stopped living for the dead. Make sense...maybe? I thought it did...ANYWAYS.

Thanks to: Biskitty, Calistar Heir, Eveelee, FinalxHeaven, Kingdom-Keys16, Meilinoa, PoutingCutie, Radiance Dragon, Sael, THall, Teef Lockhart, Xover-girl, bang on the head, cerberus angel, lilcherubanimefangirl, lilmizgrunge, sesshomaru-haku, starsweepforme, x.one.winged.angel.x, Eryn S, NiChee, Niktastic, Princess Lightina, Sheiky, Western, bloodoftheangels, gothica's heart, talimthewindwaker, x Sarizar, Rend, MiraGe, Chierian9el, Toons, kikyo-hime, Iskra Revoir, Sinnocently, Binkledup, Peanuckle, KaryuuNoHaneKata, zenbon zakura, cLoTiHeArT, Fall of Normality, myxavier, elebelly, Le Pecore Nere.

Whew, that was a workout...sorry if I left anyone out or mispelled. THANK YOU SO MUCH!

**Oh,** And if you're interested, click on my homepage for artwork for you guys for this story...considor it a thank you gift. Love ya!


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